


Naruto Archive

by Kyogre



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Gamer AU - Freeform, Gen, Humor, M/M, Mokuton Uzumaki Naruto, One Shot Collection, Warring States Period (Naruto)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 11:00:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 87,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25968520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyogre/pseuds/Kyogre
Summary: Collection of Naruto one shots.1. How Naruto Became the Sixth Hokage at Age Sixteen2. SNS pregnancy test meme3. Hashirama Gamer AU4. Tobirama and Madara, guilt5. Obito and Kakashi, linked6. Ghost team AU7. Madara and Indra, bonds8. Sannin apprentice mixup9. NaruHina, childhood friends10. Mokuton Naruto, part 111. part 2 (with Yamanaka)12. part 3 (with Tenzou)13. Obirin+KK, soulmates14. Obito returner AU
Relationships: Dai-nana-han | Team 7 - Relationship, Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Obito, Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 85
Kudos: 397





	1. Sixth Hokage Naruto AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: How Naruto Became the Sixth Hokage at Age Sixteen. Or, five conversations that didn't happen. 
> 
> Originally written and posted on FFN in 2014.

~.~

  1. Support from the Sandaime



"When Tobirama-sama named you his successor, I thought he must have gone mad," Homura admitted.

"You were such a naive and unreliable fool back then," Koharu added, in that brutally honest way she had.

If he had still been that naive fool, Hiruzen would have probably choked on his pipe and started spluttering. But he was decades too old for that, and the Sandaime Hokage only raised his eyebrows in amusement.

"Thank you for your kind words. What brought this on?" he said mildly.

"I was wrong. You were the best choice," Homura went on, sparing a faint smile for his old teammate's response. "You've made your mistakes, but you have done well by Konoha for all these years."

"Hashirama-sama built this village, and Tobirama-sama laid the foundations of our traditions, but you are the one who guided Konoha and preserved its legacy for so long," Koharu said, nodding.

This time, Hiruzen was genuinely surprised, enough to lower his pipe and stare at them in bemusement. This kind of praise was rare, especially from Koharu — and it put him on edge.

"I expect there is a 'but' to all of this," he said.

Homura nodded. "But you've grown old, Hiruzen. You were right to step down. It's unfortunate, what happened with Minato, but taking back the hat isn't the solution."

"You need a successor," Koharu said. "And whatever Danzou believes, he is too old to be an option… setting aside all the other issues regarding him."

For several long moments, Hiruzen chewed on his pipe thoughtfully. It wasn't as if they were saying anything he hadn't considered before.

It had been ten years since the Kyuubi's attack. At first, taking back his position truly had been the best choice. The village had needed stability and an experienced hand during the rebuilding — balanced with keeping the other villages from taking advantage of their weakness. It had been only a year since the war's end, after all. Orochimaru's defection had just made it worse.

Then, the trouble with the Uchiha clan had started. Even if Hiruzen had been able to find someone suitable, bringing someone new into that kind of political climate would have been a disaster waiting to happen — not that it hadn't become a disaster all the same, but at least the village had emerged mostly intact.

But now… Now the issue was finding someone. Someone strong enough, someone with enough fire, someone who could stand out as the foremost in the village… And there, Hiruzen found himself coming up without answers.

His own students… Well, that was a dead end. Jiraiya had turned him down flat, and Tsunade had not been back in the village in many years. And anyone from Minato's generation would fall short of Minato's legend and have to contend with the Yellow Flash's shadow. 

As for the generation after, Asuma's group… several were becoming skilled, certainly. But none of them were right. None of them stood out enough, carried the weight that a Hokage would need. Except perhaps Kakashi, but… He had never quite recovered from the loss of his team. If Hiruzen asked, Kakashi would refuse, if only because he could not imagine himself living up to Minato's legacy.

"There is no one, at this moment, who could bear the title as it should be," Hiruzen said. "You know that. No one recognized by the entire village, for better or for worse, and no one recognized by the other villages. Not yet…"

Homura and Koharu exchanged a look.

"Not yet? So you have someone in mind," Homura said.

"That's quite a gamble," Koharu said, far more disapprovingly. "How can you be sure?"

"He doesn't have any choice but to become someone great," Hiruzen said, a smile tugging at his lips — he enjoyed teasing his advisers, once in a while. "That's the legacy that was entrusted to him."

Koharu understood first. "No," she said flatly. "No. Hiruzen, absolutely not. He's a child! He's dead last in his class! He's so… annoying!"

"Jiraiya was considered a failure too, and he's one of the strongest in the shinobi world," Hiruzen pointed out. "And remember when Hashirama-sama called the Mizukage 'fish-eyed?'"

"…Their personalities are similar, now that I think about it," Homura said, smiling wryly. He seemed to have decided that Hiruzen was just joking.

Koharu shot him a cutting look. "He'll paint the entire town orange!"

"It's a very fire-like color," Hiruzen said serenely.

"He's ten! Just how long do you intend to stay in office?" Koharu insisted, apparently torn between practical considerations and disbelieving outrage.

"How old were we, when we lost Tobirama-sama?" Hiruzen reminded her gently. "I think we have it in us to last another decade. It'll be enough."

When Koharu angrily crossed her arms, with the same expression she had given Hiruzen when they were still just teenagers and doing something stupid, Homura began to chuckle. Hiruzen laughed too, though he had been mostly serious. It was a rare lighthearted moment for three people who had carried the weight of an entire village for far too long.

That, Hiruzen thought, was a wonderful power for a Hokage — to bring joy and life to people, to their village.

He didn't know exactly what kind of man Naruto would become, but he believed in that boy, just as Minato and Kushina had… even if it was perhaps in desperation.

~.~

  1. Support from the Godaime



The three of them, it turned out, did not have it in them to last another decade. Only a fifth of the way there, their team was reduced by one.

Fortunately, the issue of succession had an unexpected, almost miraculous resolution. Homura and Koharu would have backed Tsunade for the Hokage's seat no matter what — they had no better options, and the Sannin still carried a lot of weight, even if the one in question had been off active service for over two decades — but the Tsunade who returned was… different.

There was a fire in her eyes and in her heart that had been missing since the Second War.

Tsunade didn't wait for their approval. "I'm going to meet the daimyo," she declared the same day she arrived in Konoha and made known her intention to become Hokage in front of the jounin council, who had been too stunned to even try to protest. "Let's get the formalities out of the way. We've got a lot to do."

The daimyo, even with a few days' notice, was also quite surprised. "Tsunade-hime? As Hokage? Ah, yes, I see… That makes sense…" he muttered, fiddling with his fan. "The Sandaime's student, and one of the Sannin. And the Shodaime's granddaughter! How suitable! I approve!"

That kind of mercurial turnaround was common for him, and Tsunade only nodded sharply. The daimyo snapped his fan open and regarded her over the edge, a calculating gleam appearing in his eyes.

"I was surprised to hear about your sudden return," he said. "You had been away for so long that many said you would never return. And to become Hokage, no less!"

"Hah! I didn't expect it either," Tsunade said frankly. "But it's just a temporary thing. There was this brat… He convinced me. I'm just holding the hat until he's ready. The reason I came back is because I believe in him and in his dream."

The dream that Nawaki and Dan had shared — to become Hokage and protect their village and comrades.

~.~

  1. Support from the Kazekage



That wasn't the last time the daimyo heard about Tsunade's boy. She was happy to speak of him whenever he plied her with enough sake. Her tone, whether recounting his failures or his successes, was of a doting grandmother, or even a proud mother.

But Tsunade aside, there was another memorable meeting where that boy was brought up once more.

The Godaime Kazekage's appointment caused quite a stir, and a great deal of gossip. None of it was positive, especially concerning Sabaku no Gaara's young age and inexperience. There were rumors as well, which painted him in a… less than flattering light. A rather bloodthirsty light, in fact.

So the daimyo was both curious and apprehensive, when the young Kazekage requested an audience soon after his appointment.

However, in person, Gaara turned out to be quiet and polite, with a presence surprisingly strong and solid for someone so young.

"The purpose of my visit," Gaara said, once the formalities were out of the way, "is to offer my apologies for what occurred during the Chuunin Exams in Konoha. That we were fooled is no excuse. Our village acted dishonorably and caused great damage to Konoha and to Hi no Kuni."

He bowed low, but the daimyo waved him up after only a few bare moments. "I liked Hiruzen," the daimyo said mournfully, "but I know the one thing he wouldn't have wanted was for children to bear the sins of their forefathers. He always hated that."

Gaara nodded. "Understood. Then, I will say this instead: Suna will be Konoha's true ally. This much I will make sure of, on my word as Kazekage."

The daimyo snapped his fan shut, smiling. "Wonderful!" he declared. "With such strong conviction, I can see how you became your village's leader at such a young age!"

Smiling faintly, Gaara said, "It's something I was taught by a boy from Konoha…"

A boy who was like him, but not, who understood but chose a different path, and showed Gaara another way to live.

"The dream of leading my village and protecting my comrades is something I share with him now," Gaara explained. "That's why I know that Konoha and Suna will certainly be allies. Someday, the two of us will shake hands as two Kages. I'm sure of it."

"And that boy's name?" the daimyo wondered.

Well, in truth, he already knew.

Uzumaki Naruto... He certainly carried the weight of many great expectations.

~.~

  1. Support from the sage’s disciple



"Unbelievable. It's truly astounding…" the daimyo murmured pensively as the shinobi representatives finished their retelling of the events of Pain's invasion.

Koharu and Homura exchanged a look. "Nonetheless, that is what occurred. The Rinnegan is truly beyond the realm of ordinary ninjutsu," Koharu said.

That went without saying. Controlling six corpses, destroying the entire village singlehandedly… bringing back the dead. Shinobi were capable of great feats, which ordinary people had become at least somewhat accustomed to, but this was in an entirely separate realm.

This was more like a monster, or a natural disaster. Even the bijuu had been less destructive.

"Hmm?" the daimyo drew out. "Oh, I know that. I've heard of the Sage of Six Paths and his eyes as well… though that was a fairytale, we thought. What I meant was, for him to bring back everyone he killed… that is truly unbelievable."

The elders had taken on unreadable expressions that were nonetheless somehow discontent. For Koharu and Homura, they remembered Tsunade's reprimands and her faith in Naruto — which, in the end, had not been misplaced. For Danzou… his thoughts were far less charitable.

"Naruto is good at bringing out the best in people," Shikaku commented unexpectedly, "or at least that's what my son tells me."

"Uzumaki Naruto…" the daimyo mused. He snapped his fan shut and held it tightly with both hands. "Very well. I have decided. I want to speak with this Uzumaki Naruto. Bring him here immediately!"

There was a moment of stunned silence, and then the protests began.

"We don't have time for indulging in personal whims," Danzou said sharply, the loudest of the bunch. "Do you understand the situation? We must act now to stabilize Konoha."

The daimyo couldn't help but cower a little. The old war hawk had always scared him.

"It's a reasonable request," Shikaku said, his tone still lazy, but also unyielding. "After all, we only have a secondhand account of many things Naruto experienced in person."

"…I agree," Homura said, drawing a sharp look from Danzou. "He might have some insight on the matter."

He and Koharu exchanged a long look that held an entire conversation. Koharu frowned, but nodded, conceding.

"Then it's decided," the daimyo beamed. "Summon Uzumaki Naruto here!"

Naruto, when he arrived shortly, was equally bemused. But if he felt nervous, he hid it well — that was a big 'if' in the first place. Having never met an authority figure he actually showed respect to, Naruto greeted the daimyo with, "Yo! So what's up?"

"I've been told you're the one who defeated the Akatsuki leader Pain," the daimyo said, watching Naruto closely.

Naruto's expression quickly turned serious and uncharacteristically pensive. "I don't think you can say that. I didn't defeat him," Naruto said. "We just… talked, and Nagato decided to believe in Ero-Sennin's dream."

"Jiraiya's dream?" the daimyo mused, after a moment's thought at the nickname. He sighed. "It's a shame he's gone. I liked him. You were his student, weren't you?"

Naruto nodded. "Yeah, like Nagato and the Yondaime. We all inherited Ero-Sennin's dream. He believed in peace. He believed the world could be changed, so there would be no more war, so that people didn't have to keep losing everyone who is precious to them."

"That's a good dream," the daimyo agreed, though Danzou snorted quietly and the other two elders looked disbelieving. "And they both — Jiraiya and this Nagato — entrusted this dream to you. Just because you… talked?"

"It's important for people to hear each other out!" Naruto protested, crossing his arms and scowling. Sheepishly, he added, "Well, I did kind of beat up all his Paths of Pain first…"

The most important thing to know about power was when not to use it, one of his tutors had once told the daimyo, back when he was still a young boy. Sometimes, the time comes to listen and to hear the decision made by the other party. That is the wisdom of a ruler.

The daimyo chuckled, making Naruto laugh awkwardly as well. Slapping his fan down into the palm of one hand, he declared, one more time, "Very well, I've decided!"

~.~.~

  1. Support from the daimyo



"You said the most urgent thing is to choose an interim Hokage while Tsunade-hime recuperates?" the daimyo said, turning back to his advisers, the elders, and the other shinobi. "Then, the person I choose is the successor Tsunade herself selected — Uzumaki Naruto!"

The meeting room erupted in protests, including from Naruto, and everyone else except three.

Homura and Koharu exchanged a look. Tsunade's chosen successor, who was also the one Hiruzen had placed his faith in, Jiraiya's student, and the boy who had made a miracle possible. Perhaps it was time to place their faith in him.

Shikaku just chuckled after a moment, shaking his head. No wonder Shikamaru was always sighing and groaning but watching this boy closely.

Naruto was certainly bound for great things.

~.~


	2. SNS pregnancy test meme

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr in 2014. Based on this joke post: <https://kyogre-blue.tumblr.com/post/102431380325/>

The situation is thus: Sasuke has just attacked an inter-village summit and apparently killed the interim Sixth Hokage; Sakura has just tried to kill Sasuke and completely failed; Kakashi has just managed to save one of his students from getting killed by another and stated his intention to kill the second; Naruto has just found the rest of his team attempting murder on each other, in several combinations, and then said something completely and utterly crazy.

The conversation went like this:

“Sasuke, let’s go,” swirly mask man ordered.

“Wait!” Naruto yelled. “Sasuke!”

Sasuke paused and turned, glaring. “Why?” he demanded. “Why do you want me to go back so badly?!”

‘Because you’re my friend,’ Naruto wanted to say, but it hadn’t done much good the last time he tried it. ‘Because you’re being used,’ he also wanted to say, but that hadn’t worked either. So what was he supposed to say? He had to say something! Anything! Anything at all!

The last time Naruto found himself at a loss for words, he drew upon his teacher’s writings for help. Just repeating the words of the Gutsy Ninja to Nagato was enough to fracture the ice around his heart.

So Naruto decided to try again. Just, with a different book.

“Because I’m pregnant with our child!” he declared, pointing dramatically at Sasuke with one hand and holding the other to his (totally flat) belly.

(There was a certain kind of reasoning to Naruto’s decision. That Icha Icha story was his favorite, involving a man seeking revenge and his friend with benefits, with whom he also happened to share a childhood marriage promise. In the end, the friend’s love and support saved the man from his inner darkness and broke the chains of hatred that had bound him. Kind of like what Naruto wants to do for Sasuke.)

(In particular, the two were able to communicate “with their bodies” – kind of like Naruto’s attempts to convey his thoughts to Sasuke with his fists.)

This is the situation. It’s all Naruto’s, no, Jiraiya’s, no,  _ Icha Icha’s _ fault.

Someone lets out a choking sound. It might be Sasuke. It might be Sakura. It might be Madara-Tobi. It’s not Naruto, who looks completely serious and earnest. It’s also not Kakashi, who just cringes.

“WHAT?!” someone roars. It might be Sakura. It might be Tobi-Madara.

“O-oh,” Sasuke says, blinking rapidly. It’s almost possible to hear his entire world view shifting a few degrees sideways. “Then I have no choice… I’ll take responsibility. Naruto, come with me.”

“You can’t be taking this seriously!” someone protests. It might be Tobi. It might be Madara. 

Sakura, by this point, has dropped her poisoned kunai and is holding her head in disbelief. “No way,” she mutters. “No way. I’m the last one to lose my virginity on our team? How? No, wait, when did you even do it?”

“Sakura, I… don’t think that’s quite the issue here,” Kakashi says. Although she brings up a good point, given that Sasuke and Naruto haven’t actually had any unsupervised “alone time” in three years.

It’s just that there are other good points to consider first. Like, Naruto being male. …Most of the time.

And, well, it’s Naruto…

No, Sasuke and Naruto definitely haven’t been alone in three years, Kakashi reassures himself. There is absolutely no way they could have… exchanged DNA.

At least, Kakashi prays that’s the case. He doesn’t want to explain to Tsunade that her honorary brother-son-grandson is going to become a teenage mother(?). He doesn’t want to then explain it to Minato-sensei in the afterlife, after she kills him.

They’ll both blame him, he just knows it. Why didn’t you teach them the dangers of unprotected sex, they’ll say. You’re their teacher. It’s your duty. You always let your teammates down, Kakashi. How could you have missed that rock coming for you? How could you have missed those Kiri kidnappers coming for Rin? How could you have missed their unresolved sexual tension coming to a boiling point?

“You can’t be taking this seriously,” definitely not Obito repeats. “Sasuke, that’s not possible. That’s not how it works! Honestly, don’t you even know where children come from?”

“Of course I know,” Sasuke says, sneering. “From moms and dads. When they share everything and become one, a baby gets made.” He takes on a slightly shell-shocked look. “I guess… we really did share everything through our fists. My feelings reached Naruto…”

That was what Mikoto told her young son, when he asked. He was about five at the time.

The thing about losing your entire family at a young age, then having nothing resembling a parental figure and obsessing blindly with revenge is that you end up missing out on certain common sense things. Like the toads and the snakes talk.

(Probably, time with Orochimaru, who defied assumed boundaries of biology every two hours or so, didn’t help. After the stuff Sasuke had seen in the labs, a small issue like a man having a child was no obstacle.)

Frankly, the only reason Naruto even knew that it wasn’t possible for him to actually be pregnant was because of Icha Icha.

It’s all Icha Icha’s fault.


	3. Hashirama Gamer AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I use the “Gamer” concept very loosely here lol

Letting out a gusty sight that sent several sheets of paperwork flying off the stacks that crowded his desk, Hashirama muttered to himself, “I just don’t get it.” In an increasingly whiny tone, he repeated, “I just _don’t get it.”_

At another desk nearby, Tobirama paused in his steady, machine-like writing. Closing his eyes and obviously running calculus formulas in his head to maintain some semblance of self control, he finally gritted out, one blunt word at a time, “What is it, anija?” 

What is it _this time,_ he meant. 

“Madara!” Hashirama burst out as if he’d been waiting for an excuse to complain. Which, in fact, he had been. “I just don’t get what else I need to do! I thought I got it right this time!” 

Throwing up his hands, he threw himself back in his chair, making the wood creak ominously. 

The brush in Tobirama’s hand creaked ominously as well, as his grip tightened in agitation. His jaw clenched as he fought down his annoyance. “What about that man?” he bit out. “You can’t keep obsessing with him, anija. You are Hokage now. You are responsible for the entire village. And that man is becoming more and more unhinged. There’s clearly no helping him—” 

Covering his face with a forearm and a wide white sleeve, Hashirama rolled his eyes. 

Tobirama was always so scared of Madara. He wasn’t wrong, but couldn’t he loosen up? He wasn’t even the one who had GAME OVER’d against the man two times already. 

And the way things were going, there might very well be a third time too. Hashirama wasn’t looking forward to it. 

He really had thought he was doing well on this try! Childhood friends! Alliance! The village was stronger than ever before! It even had a name!

And yet, despite all that, Madara still refused to get recruited properly! 

He was clearly a shinobi of Konoha, and yet, he wasn’t in the ally list — unlike his entire clan. Any other Uchiha, Hashirama could pull up their character sheet, check their stats, assign them missions, everything. But Madara... 

Sure, as the Hokage, Hashirama could assign him missions. But only in the “real world” sense, sending a hawk to summon him and giving him verbal instructions or a mission scroll. No convenient menu shortcuts were possible. The associated quest would become marked in progress, yes. And yet, the details about who was assigned to it, the status, the completion percentage, it was all missing. 

Because Uchiha Madara was still not ‘recruited.’ 

After all that! Why!! 

Of course, although he wanted to complain a bit, Hashirama couldn’t really explain all this to Tobirama. After all, his brother didn’t know about the “system.” 

He couldn’t explain that “Senju Hashirama” was just a character. A loose soul shoved into a new body and given a “system” to fulfill some goal. Specifically, the goal to [Create a village]. 

It still sounded fantastical even to him, and he had been living it for all this time. It had already been decades, so he didn’t even remember his original name anymore... He thought it started with an N, maybe? But even so, the entire “system” was still a mystery to him, and he had no idea why he was the only who seemed to have been affected like this. 

Whether this world itself was real or some elaborate game, he also couldn’t begin to guess. In any case, he couldn’t treat it casually. Sure, when he died, he only got punted back to some checkpoint in the past to try again, but dying hurt and watching his efforts come to naught was also painful and frustrating. Whatever would come after [Creating] this village, it would at least be a change from the loops of childhood, taking control of the Senju, and politicking with the other clans for an alliance. 

God, if he had to negotiate with the Nara one more time...

This was his third real attempt at creating the village. 

He had died three more times besides that, five in total, but they had been smaller things, carelessness or an ambush he really should have seen coming. It was really two times that ‘Hashirama’ had completely dead-ended on the main quest. 

And in both, Uchiha Madara was the end boss who put an end to his miserable failure. 

The first time, Hashirama had rushed too much. He had received the main quest, but he had gone about it too simplistically. Levelling up and taking control of the Senju, he had formed an alliance with a number of smaller clans and had them move onto Senju lands. In the space between the new clan compounds, the trappings of a settlement had formed, and he had thought that would be enough for a start. 

He hadn’t expected that the genre had so much political maneuvering. The local lords had quickly grown wary of the accumulated power of their alliance and formed a coalition of their own. Hiring several rival clans, they had ordered the destruction of the Senju. 

Naturally, the spearhead of this joint attack force were the Uchiha. And that was how Hashirama got killed by Madara the first time. 

He’d somewhat suspected that something had gone wrong when the system stopped forming new checkpoints. In retrospect, that was the last sign that he was on an extended Bad End. But just to make sure he understood his failings, he was even provided with an epilogue slideshow of scenes after his death. 

It turned out the clans in his alliance had only bowed their heads and agreed because they were afraid of his ridiculous stats and hack-and-slash game kill count. In their hearts, they had been deeply resentful all along, so once the opposite coalition cut down the Senju, the other clans quickly rolled over and begged for mercy without a shred of loyalty to their supposed allies. 

It was pretty bad! Hahahahaha.

So back to childhood Hashirama went. 

The second time, he’d tried to be a little more crafty. He really did. 

Through endless headaches, he’d maneuvered it so that the alliance would start as a meeting of several at least somewhat equal powers. The only clan that could match the Senju individually were the dreaded Uchiha, of course, but Ino-Shika-Cho along with the Sarutobi had come to the negotiation table together, and so had smaller groups like the Inuzuka and the Aburame, or Shimura and their smaller vassal clans. They had even gone on to make an actual village in a new location — the same one as the current Konoha. These things were at least consistent between iterations. 

It had been a workable model, more or less, and Hashirama had refused to restart completely several times, trying instead to fix it from somewhere closer to the end. Surely the issues that had lingered, like the difficulty of communicating between the ‘power blocs’ created at the village’s conception and the uncertainty the remaining clans in the Land of Fire felt toward joining later, as second comers with no backers, could have been resolved without starting over completely. 

The problem was that while the basic foundation was workable, it just wasn’t strong enough to stand on its own. 

The Bad End slideshow had always been about how the alliance would fracture and fall apart after Hashirama’s death, his brother lacking the overwhelming power and influence needed to keep the factions from turning on each other. It had been more annoying than anything, since it wasn’t like he planned to die so early anyway. What did the stability of the village without him matter, if he just avoided dying? 

Finally fed up with him, the system provided another hint. 

**_“You of all people should know better. You cannot guide the world alone, Asura.”_ **

A voice he didn’t know spoke to him on the dark boundary between death and resetting. 

He was pretty sure Asura hadn’t been his original name, back in his life before the system. So this was a story hint — foreshadowing for a future plot twist! ...Kind of worrying, really. 

With a heavy heart, Hashirama had accepted being shot all the way back to the main childhood checkpoint, the one that was considered the start, after the tutorial. 

At least he didn’t have to redo the baby and toddler years of tutorial. 

Of his failures and deaths in the multiple iterations of the second timeline, Madara had been responsible for all of them, but Hashirama didn’t count them separately, since the story had always been the same, only slightly varying by location and lead up. An ambush together with his brother Izuna, the two of them overtaking Hashirama’s raw power with their coordination and teamwork... 

Hashirama wished he’d paid more attention to their epilogue dialogue back then, but he had written it off as more tedious complaints about the Senju being too powerful, too untrustworthy. He’d heard enough of that in the first timeline. But maybe... there would have been some hint.

Having to live through Senju Hashirama’s life for a third time, he had been rather dispirited. Just getting stronger was never enough on its own, and even political maneuvering and schmoozing had failed. What was he doing wrong? 

Feeling rebellious and unwilling, he’d even accepted the pointless [Skipping Stones] quest he’d dropped after trying it once long ago, the exp payoff not nearly worth burning an entire day. 

He ran the quest seven times out of boredom and laziness. 

Maybe it was another handout from the system, taking pity on him. Or maybe this quest flag had always been there and he’d missed it. But after the seventh time, the quest changed — to [Meeting Madara]. 

Excuse me? Madara, the end boss?? 

The end boss was this cute as a child?! 

Although he had gone through the motions of a clueless, cheery brat, Hashirama had internally remained quite ambiguous toward the situation throughout. He had endlessly gone back and forth in his head — Was this the start of a recruitment path… or just a bonus content look at the end boss’s start of darkness? Some more pathos to their future rivalry? 

Well, as long as he kept getting points off of it, that was fine too, he supposed. 

It was just that… Madara really had been a cute kid. And spending so much time trying to read him, understand his motivations, raise his approval points, even just fighting him to a standstill, it was only natural that Hashirama got somewhat attached. Among the NPCs… no, people… of the world, Madara was the one that stood out the most. 

It was frustrating, to still be falling short and not know why. Was it really just not possible? 

Or, had Izuna’s death really been a Bad End flag after all? 

The battlefield that day had been ominous enough, but when Madara appeared before them again after a long silence and declared that his brother had passed on from the wounds Tobirama dealt him, Hashirama had almost given up and reset right there and then. 

However, he’d grown somewhat inured against watching things fall apart, after his prior resets. So in the end, he had decided to see it through — at least for now. Maybe he’d get some useful hints, he’d thought. 

It wasn’t a choice he regretted, really. He knew the village’s name now, and that Madara was definitely, absolutely necessary. He hadn’t been wrong about that. He knew about the Hokage position, about the politics of it and how to balance the clans in the new setup. He knew Senju and Uchiha made the most sound foundation, the symbolism of setting aside their old grudge and their combined but opposite power creating a sense of assurance for the other clans. 

...He didn’t want to reset it. It was going _so well._

Letting his arm drop and his shoulders slump, Hashirama lolled his head lazily and willed the system menu to open. Mentally, he flipped through the submenus to the section that listed checkpoints. It had been a couple weeks since the last one — adding another handful of minor clans to Konoha’s roster. 

That was pretty normal. They were at peace, more or less, so there were few quests or achievements to checkpoint, especially after the initial phase of building Konoha’s facilities had ended. 

In theory, as long as the checkpoints kept updating, there was still a way to succeed. But in practice, Hashirama knew that just because a way existed didn’t mean it was feasible. He wasn’t an omniscient gaming genius or anything, after all. 

Even though they had founded Konoha, named it, given it a leader and every possible infrastructure, the mainline quest [Create a village] still wasn’t considered complete. There was still a chance that it would all fall apart and be erased from history without ever taking root. This time, it couldn’t be from some machinations of the local lords, not when even the daimyo had bowed his head and acknowledged Konoha. It couldn’t be any of the few remaining clans still scattered around the Land of Fire. And while there were troubling rumors about potential villages forming abroad, Hashirama didn’t think Konoha would lose to any of them. 

It was just his intuition, but… 

Madara, who had [Created] this village with him but wasn’t part of it… 

It wouldn’t stop bothering him. And at some point, the timer on his recruitment phase would surely run out. 

Brows furrowing and one finger tapping an increasingly agitated pattern against his desk, Hashirama stared blankly into the distance. 

He didn’t want to reset. But he didn’t know what to do either. Madara was really—

“—Anija! Are you listening?!” 

Not just Tobirama’s raised voice but also a sharp spike in his chakra jerked Hashirama out of his thoughts. “Hm? Uh, yeah! Of course!” he quickly agreed, though he wasn’t sure to what. 

Pasting on a helpless smile had long since stopped working on his brother, and Tobirama only shot him a disgusted, narrow-eyed glare. Giving up on the Hokage as a hopeless case, he turned back to his own work. 

“But seriously though,” Hashirama said, pulling his mind back to the original subject, “what else can I do with Madara? There has to be something.” 

“Isn’t it obvious, anija?” Tobirama said, studiously refusing to look at him again. His voice was cold, and his expression was completely unreadable. “You’re going to have to kill him someday. Make peace with that.” 

In regard to “Senju Hashirama’s” character, the correct response was a denial of some sort. Whiny and childish, full of impassioned emotion, or coldly furious, this ruthlessness was something he was supposed to reject. They’d had this argument before, even — always, without fail, Tobirama had insisted that it was only a matter of time before Madara went off the rails and became a clear and imminent danger to the village. And then, as the only one strong enough to face him, Hashirama would have to put an end to him. 

Well, assuming it would be a winnable boss battle. Just because Madara’s stats had been surmountable last time, after Izuna’s death, didn’t mean they would be next time. 

“...You really think so, huh?” Hashirama muttered. 

Having been watching his brother, he saw the way Tobirama’s motions paused just slightly, but he still never looked up. “Yes,” he replied calmly, “I do.” 

The corner of Hashirama’s mouth turned down, and he looked away. 

Was this... what you’d call a system hint? 

There wasn’t anything in the UI to indicate that, of course. But sometimes… 

A little too often to easily write it off as his imagination, Tobirama said things that were far too close to the system messages or descriptions. Calling the Uchiha “the Cursed Clan,” his overly advanced terminology for Konoha’s infrastructures, even the way he wrote out mission reports was a perfect match for the system menus. 

Most of the time, the system existed as something laid on top of a world that felt more or less real, rather than another part of it. Shinobi chakra stuff aside, the physics were all consistent, people didn’t know things they shouldn’t or act in ways that were clearly impossible, and you couldn’t just beef someone’s stats without handing them the right pills. There were few exceptions, but almost all of them went through Tobirama — who often acted as more of a support NPC than anything. 

If Hashirama assigned missions in the menu, Tobirama always knew the assignments somehow. If he fiddled with the budget and manpower distribution between facilities, Tobirama would have a perfectly matching physical record drawn up in short order. Helpful… but strange. 

It wasn’t the same as the sometimes contrived coincidences involved in kicking off or advancing quests. Hashirama had questioned the quest NPCs in the beginning, trying to understand how it all worked, and they always had their own reasons for why they were in that place or giving him this thing. The reasons might have been rather silly at times, but they existed. 

When Hashirama asked his brother about his unnaturally accurate knowledge of things he hadn’t been told, Tobirama only ever looked at him like he was being dense again and said, “Isn’t this how you want it?” 

He wasn’t just… imagining that Hashirama had told him, despite the conversation never taking place. He really just knew, and didn’t see anything strange about it. 

And yet, at the same time, Tobirama always bluntly denied any knowledge or understanding of the system, no matter how thinly veiled Hashirama made his questions. 

If that Tobirama always said so baldly that Hashirama would one day have to kill Madara, was that the system saying Madara’s storyline could only be resolved in one way? 

Could he assume that? 

He didn’t want to. It was so stupid. All of that! Everything about seeing each other’s guts, all the battles precisely balanced not to give either of them a definitive victory, making peace and the village… all of that couldn’t just end with “you could never be allies, there is no recruitment option,” right? 

No, he couldn’t just assume that. Tobirama was still a person with his own opinions, unrelated to the system. It could be something he was saying out of his own fear and distrust. 

“Well, I don’t think so,” Hashirama declared rebelliously. 

He stood abruptly, sending his chair skittering back. Without waiting to hear Tobirama’s inevitable protests, he quickly stalked out of the office — driven by the restless need to do _something,_ even if he had no idea what he could do that he hadn’t already tried. 

The problem was surely not Madara’s affection points, but maybe spending more time with him would help. Maybe he’d finally trigger something useful. 

Maybe there’d be a miracle. Maybe the system would feel merciful. You never knew. 

Since Madara steadily refused to become considered a proper Konoha nin and show up in Hashirama’s [Allies] menu, he had to look for him the normal way — walking around and checking. Of course, there wasn’t a lot of options. Madara didn’t go too many places on his own, not unless Hashirama specifically asked to meet him there. 

Yes, the famously frustrating hardest capture Madara had only two places where he spawned — the top of the mountain and the Uchiha district. 

Smiling at his own humor, Hashirama moved at an unhurried pace toward the latter. 

Recently, Madara didn’t seem to leave his clan’s compound much. Hashirama never saw him walking about the village anymore or even going up atop the mountain to look over Konoha from afar, even though it had clearly been a place he liked. The mountain... Was it because of the giant stone face? It was kind of weird, admittedly, and it was also related to the whole Hokage thing. 

The whole Hokage thing that still made Hashirama somewhat uncertain. Becoming the Shodai seemed very obvious in a certain way, but at the same time, the quest he received had been [Appoint a Hokage] and not [Become Hokage]. It wasn’t just an incidental difference in phrasing either. There had been no steps for garnering support or additional approval meter for the village population. The quest progress had been only about the aspects of holding the election, rather than promoting himself as the winner. It was just too strange. 

He had been mostly fishing for clues when he suggested Madara for the position, but looking at it another way, who else could it be? The village was still too young for anyone else to have had a chance to establish themselves, especially since the election had taken place before any other clans formally joined. It had to be one of them, the founders. Wouldn’t there be a certain sense in making the end boss (of this arc...?) the village headman? 

Was that where Hashirama had gone wrong? The election results couldn’t have been clearer, so did he need to handle the entire founding in some way that maneuvered Madara into the people’s good graces? Or was doing a general election a mistake in the first place? Hashirama had gone along with it when Tobirama suggested it, but the process they put down for choosing all subsequent Hokage was already different anyway... 

Would making Madara the second Hokage work? Or did he need to go back and redo the first appointment? How far back would that require? 

If he was going back to when he took over the clan or something, he might as well go back to his childhood and redo his entire backstory with Madara. Maybe there was a way for them to part on more amicable terms. Or maybe it was one of those locked events that always happened in a slightly different way, no matter what he did — like Kawarama and Itama’s deaths. 

He really just didn’t know… 

Hashirama sighed. Without intending to, he’d circled back onto this topic again. 

Like a dog with a bone, always gnawing at the same thing over and over. It was just so frustrating. 

Although they wore their crest more prominently than anyone else, the Uchiha clan and their district didn’t feel any different than the rest of Konoha. The clansmen greeted him with the same respect and smiles as the other citizens, before continuing going about their day. 

They were really just ordinary people — there was nothing “cursed” about them, no matter how Hashirama looked. 

The only bad omen marring an otherwise pleasant, peaceful day was the look that passed over Hikaku’s face when Hashirama asked him about Madara’s whereabouts. 

“If it’s Hokage-sama, it should be fine to say...” he muttered to himself uncertainly. “Madara-sama... has been sequestering himself at the shrine. There are artifacts inside that have a deep meaning to our clan, so outsiders aren’t allowed onto the grounds...” 

“That’s fine!” Hashirama said easily. “I’ll wait outside.” 

A shrine... 

He hadn’t fought in one of those yet. It’d be a pretty fancy background to a boss battle, hahaha. 

Ridiculous. There was no reason to think Madara would just attack him. The Uchiha were happy in Konoha. At the very least, there would be some lead up... 

The Naka shrine was a ways from the Uchiha area and the village as a whole, secluded among a still lush section of forest. Even from the bottom of the broad stone steps leading up to it, Hashirama could see the traditional, bright red torii gate, set with the ‘uchiwa’ fan between its two beams. 

It was too boring to wait at the bottom. He’d at least go up and wait at the gate. 

Thinking this, he stepped onto the first stone stair. 

He didn’t go any further — with a chime that suddenly felt all too ominous, a system window appeared directly in front of him. 

_New quest [The Stone Tablet] has been unlocked._

Oh. 

Trying to ignore the way his stomach had dropped, Hashirama wondered sardonically whether the message would go away if he stepped back off the stairs. 

When he slowly lifted his gaze back up to the crimson gate, there was a single dark figure standing between the two thick pillars. Madara’s expression was in shadow as he looked down at his friend, but his voice rang out clearly. 

“Hashirama, you’re here,” he noted, with the same dispassionate tone he had adopted far too often recently. “If it’s you, that’s fine... Come. There’s something I want to show you.” 

...The damn checkpoint that had just been added was called [Path of Darkness]. 

So, probably not a recruitment event, huh? 

But it was too late to back down. Pasting on a smile, Hashirama made his way up toward the shrine. 

~.~


	4. Tobirama and Madara, guilt

Although trying to sense anything using chakra would have been a terrible idea at the moment, Tobirama was still clearly aware when someone approached his house. Using their own senses to locate him, they didn’t bother with the front entrance and smoothly made their way around the side to where he sat on the engawa out back. 

He knew it was Touka even before she rounded the corner — he was well on his way to being drunk, but he was still a shinobi. 

Raising the sake cup in his hand in greeting, he promptly downed the alcohol in it. It was far from his first cup of the evening, but the effects were building much too slowly for his taste. Why weren’t the cups bigger? What was the point of such small cups? ...Well, normally it would be for slowly savoring the sake… But at the moment, he really wanted to drown his sorrows faster, yet wasn’t quite willing to let go of his dignity enough to drink directly from the bottle. 

Hah. Dignity. Did he still have any of that? 

“It’s awful,” Tobirama told his cousin as she dropped onto the veranda next to him. “I’m having  _ feelings.” _

Touka’s eyebrows climbed, her lips twisting in both disbelief and amusement. “That does sound awful,” she agreed, her tone best described as ‘shit-eating.’ “First time?” 

Tobirama narrowed his eyes, mentally calculating even as he poured himself another cup of alcohol. “First time this bad, at least,” he said. “I didn’t know it just… gets this unmanageable. Now I know why everyone acts so stupid.” Shuddering, he drank again. 

Among the many awful things was that he could  _ tell _ he was going to start acting very stupid too. It was as if, now that he had finally stumbled onto a feeling he couldn’t successfully repress or ignore, a dam had burst open. For some reason, he couldn’t stuff it all back in like he usually did. And he was the sort who always acted, making plans and carrying through with them relentlessly, so now… now… 

How awful. He’d always thought the Uchiha were excessive in their emotional responses, but it was starting to look like they were just slightly above average (using himself as a base) and in fact feelings just made everyone like this. 

Unreasonable. Restless. Unable to sit still or remain calm. The driving need to do something, anything for that person… 

Even in the middle of getting completely hammered, he was still thinking through all the things that might help, might lessen his burden, or at least make him a less miserable sight. At least half of them were things he had previously discarded too, for being too extreme or too biased or raising too many issues for too little gain. But of course, now his cost-benefit parameters had changed completely — because he had just to develop  _ feelings.  _

“Of all the people… I shouldn’t have hassled Anija so much,” Tobirama muttered to himself. “I should have known there was something about this bastard to make them so close... ” 

Relationships between people never made sense to begin with, so he supposed it was unsurprising that there was some factor that made this damn man so… so… good at inspiring deep emotion. Some natural charisma. 

Some of the humor smoothed off Touka’s face as she studied him more closely. Probably, she already had an inkling of who he was talking about. Of course, Tobirama had no particular intention of trying to hide it from her. He’d decided to vent from the moment he felt her approach, so he was going to vent. It wasn’t like it would make a difference. That bastard was too far in his own head to notice if Touka acted differently in their extremely rare interactions. 

And that was the worst part, wasn’t it? There was so much to make up for. And none of it was the kind of problem he knew how to tackle. 

The thing was, despite what it sounded like, the feeling Tobirama had unfortunately discovered was  _ guilt. _

He felt so damn  _ guilty. _

He didn’t think he’d ever actually felt this particular emotion before. It really was just awful. 

“You really mean... him?” Touka wondered, her expression furrowing. “But that’s… I mean, don’t you hate him?” 

“No,” Tobirama said flatly. His face screwed up in both annoyance and frustration. “I never hated him.” 

He’d feared him though, he had to admit, no matter how unhappily. It had been fear and a sort of blind helpless that made him stupid. Unfortunately, probably everyone else thought the same thing as Touka though. That wouldn’t help things in the least. 

Tobirama sighed, his annoyance waning enough to leave him feeling more tired than anything. 

“But I doubt it’s the same the other way around,” he said. His expression was pensive as he stared down at the small, delicate cup in his hands, turning it over and watching the faint sheen of moonlight play across the glaze. “I couldn’t believe he would be able to even just tolerate my existence. Now I understand he’s strong enough for that, stronger than I thought possible… or maybe insane is the better word. But forgiving me?” He shook his head. “Impossible. Who could do that? I couldn’t.” 

It was true, for all that his love for his brothers had always been tempered with duty and purpose, controlled and suppressed. When Itama and Kawarama died, there had been the need to support the ones left, to keep their father and Hashirama from clashing, to continue to fight. And if one day, impossibly, even Hashirama was defeated, there would be a million things more urgent than grief, an entire village to keep alive. 

Tobirama had always preferred to focus on the present and what needed to be done, to blunt the edges of his emotions with purpose. 

And yet, he knew that, if he had seen his brothers struck down, if he knew who had wielded the blade, if that man was in front of him... No matter what kind of logic he used or how he reasoned with himself, how he repressed and focused elsewhere, he wouldn’t be able to allow their killer to live. 

Every spare moment, every sleepless night, he would silently plan how to end that bastard’s life. Make him disappear, if necessary, so that no trace and no evidence remained. Even if this would go against his brother’s ideals and aims for the village, he knew he wouldn’t stop. 

He would plan for years if necessary, like a good shinobi. But in the end, he would strike without fail. 

The idea that Madara, who had loved his brother so much more deeply and without restraint, would allow his killer to just... keep living? Tobirama had never even considered it. 

He supposed there was a reason Madara and Hashirama were friends, why they had shared such an impossible dream. 

Hashirama... maybe he could. He might be able to even forgive it, Tobirama thought. He’d sometimes thought it rather bitterly to himself, that if he had been the one to die, his brother would have swallowed his feelings and still made peace with the Uchiha without even an ultimatum like Madara’s, empty as that had been in the end. 

But Madara wasn’t the same as Hashirama, in the end. He was still grieving deeply even after so long and, with the way the Uchiha were, he would probably grieve for the rest of his life. He wouldn’t forgive. For all he had never aimed a blade at Tobirama, he couldn’t stand to be around him either. Hoping for that would be outright delusional. 

Tobirama reached for the sake bottle, only to curse under his breath when he found it empty. 

Why did it have to be Madara of all people? 

He’d spent years being painfully aware of how strong Madara was and, as that kind of strong enemy, how  _ dangerous. _ His brother’s unceasing, unwavering attachment only made Madara that much more of a threat, and Tobirama had considered it his duty to balance out Hashirama’s obvious blind spot. Except that Madara was so much stronger than him. If it all went wrong — and he had always been certain that it  _ would _ — there would be nothing he could to save Hashirama and their clan, and that... that made him afraid. More afraid than he’d been willing to admit. 

That sense of danger and fear had only grown after Izuna’s death. Madara, he had thought, would surely start off his inevitable grief-stricken breakdown by killing Tobirama. And Hashirama... well, he’d forgive and try to make peace, and then Madara would finally take advantage of his weakness to kill him. The village and everything they’d built would burn to the ground — and Tobirama had no way of stopping it. 

He had been so sure of that. 

Except, of course, he had been  _ so _ sure of this inevitable outcome and so busy scrambling to avert it, that he’d never considered the fact that Madara had never even allowed his killing intent to surface. In his own way, Madara had always put his everything into Konoha too. 

And now, he’d gone off and nearly died for the village, like a proper Konoha nin. 

That was shocking enough on its own. Madara had already won the battle when Tobirama arrived, racing ahead of the retrieval team, but his state had been absolutely gruesome. Tobirama had never imagined him being so heavily wounded by anyone except Hashirama. The two of them had no equals, except each other, so how… Well, he had his suspicions, given everything else. 

Because that was the other, worse thing. Delirious with blood loss and exhaustion after Tobirama had picked him up to rush him back to Konoha for treatment, Madara had the sheer gall to ask with dark humor, “Why hurry so much? Isn’t it more convenient for everyone… if you’re just a little late?...” 

He’d been shocked enough to stop in his tracks for a moment. Angry enough to start yelling, too, but of course Madara had already drifted out of consciousness again at that point. 

Just to be contrary, Tobirama had immediately resumed his race back to Konoha — at double pace, ending up almost putting himself in the newly constructed hospital as well. 

But the entire time, his mind had been incessantly churning, increasingly unhappy with the way his careful plans and set views were being overturned. 

Because it  _ was _ logical, in a way, to let himself be a little late. He had been so certain for so long that Madara would inevitably become a threat to the village before long and so frustrated with his own inability to affect the eventual battle. And yet, here was an opportunity to resolve the entire issue. It would be so clean, so efficient. Not only would the threat Madara posed be removed, but he would die a hero of the village, cementing the Uchiha clan’s loyalty and place. 

It was also completely unacceptable. 

It would be  _ wrong _ to let someone who was a comrade die just for convenience. 

Despite what many thought, Tobirama was capable of telling right from wrong. And he valued those morals. When he made the choice to sacrifice them for a greater goal, it was always only after careful consideration, with the understanding that he was walking a dangerous path. 

No, he was not willing to leave Madara to die. He was immediately and instinctively clear on that. 

But at the same time, how was that different from…  _ anticipating _ the man’s eventual death? He knew there was a difference, but laying out for himself just what the difference was had been a cold and uncomfortable process.

Madara as he was at the moment was a comrade and a member of Konoha. He was Hashirama’s friend, and someone Tobirama was obligated to save. Yet at the same time, Tobirama was absolutely certain that one day Madara would become an enemy, someone they would have to kill. 

These two points had existed simultaneously in his mind for a long time, but thinking of them side by side… 

He’d really just written off a comrade as a future enemy and done nothing to prevent it. 

He had been so used to being unable to affect anything regarding his brother and Madara, and so blindingly afraid of the outcome, that he’d let himself become completely stupid about the entire situation. He had just stopped thinking, and that was unacceptable. 

But the more he thought about, the worse it looked. 

It hadn’t been his intention. He had wanted to limit the eventual damage, and that had meant limiting Madara’s sphere of influence. But the end result was that he had slowly and systematically backed Madara into a corner and cut him off from everything. 

He really… shouldn’t have been surprised when, finally regaining consciousness at the hospital, Madara had looked at him with a cold, empty stare, as if judging Tobirama for not even being able to do such a simple thing right. 

“What do you  _ want, _ Tobirama?” He had probably intended it to be cutting, but it had only come out flat and tired. 

Tobirama had wanted to get Madara’s report on the incident, along with some half-formed intent to slip in a few questions about the things he’d been… reconsidering. But actually seeing him face to face, he realized quickly that was not going to happen, because if he heard anything to further his suspicions about how Madara managed to get into such a state, if perhaps he’d decided to be “a little slow” for everyone’s convenience… He was probably going to do something very ill advised. 

Instead, Tobirama’s expression had twisted into a face he knew was usually described as forbidding and jabbed his finger angrily toward Madara, lying prone on the bed and in no shape to move yet. 

“Stay there, don’t move,” he ordered. His tone sounded like he was scolding Hashirama, he noted without any ability to stop himself. “Follow doctor’s orders. Don’t even think about discharging yourself early or some other nonsense! And eat properly, it shouldn’t be that easy to haul you around. You’re on standby for three weeks, since you’re clearly too out of shape to be taking high ranking missions.” 

These were the things he often had to repeat, to his brother, their cousin, and various other members of their clan. No shinobi took well to convalescence. 

He fell back on them for lack of any other immediate action he could take. He needed a more detailed, tailored plan. 

Narrowing his eyes once he ran out of things to order, he concluded, “I’ll be back.” 

Then, before Madara could muster up a reaction — which he could see building in the way the man’s hair seemed to puff up around him like an angry cat and color began to rise up his neck — Tobirama turned and stormed off. 

He’d spent the day moving around restlessly without getting much done and then, giving up on himself as a lost cause, the evening doing his best to get hammered. Which brought them to the current scene. 

Touka, who had come to investigate because he hadn’t been subtle about his agitation and turmoil, had no way of knowing these details, of course. But the entire village knew about Madara’s brush with death, and she probably even knew that he’d regained consciousness, by this point. She could draw her own conclusions — which were about half right, and half completely off. 

“That’s… rough,” Touka said, patting him awkwardly on the back. Reaching over, she grabbed one of the unopened sake bottles he’d stacked nearly and poured him another cup. 

There wasn’t much else to say. Tobirama wasn’t a child. He could deal with his own poor emotional choices, or he would ask for help if he wanted it. 

Help...

He’d need it, of course. It wasn’t as if he could directly deal with Madara. They could barely exchange two sentences while remaining civil, and yet interaction with others was precisely what Madara would need, among other things. 

Isolation undermined even the strongest shinobi, Tobirama was clear on. To make an outsider into a trustworthy ally required pulling them in, not pushing them out. The two goals — to limit damage and to support — could not coexist, being direct opposites. 

Knowing he was going to reverse course and undo his own work was frustrating enough. Realising he had little idea how to go about it was outright infuriating. 

After all, it hadn’t been hard to isolate Madara. The man barely had any connections to begin with. He was practically a faulty explosive tag waiting to go off, and it was only a matter of time before he finally— 

...

It was annoyingly difficult to stop that kind of unproductive thinking. 

Reaching up, Tobirama pinched the bridge of his nose vigorously and rearranged his thoughts back to the proper direction. He wouldn’t be able to go back to acting the way he had before, not with the sharp twist of guilt in his stomach and pressing feeling of  _ ‘this is wrong’ _ at the back of his head. The last thing he needed was to end up undermining himself. 

When it came to integrating Madara into the village, there wasn’t anything to go back to or restore, so it would be a matter of forming new relationships instead. 

A child would be the most straightforward. Madara’s personality probably didn’t lend itself to nurturing, but he had a strong sense of responsibility, so he would find it difficult to turn back on a small thing that relied on him. But it couldn’t be an outside child, given clan politics, and Tobirama had no idea if the Uchiha clan had any orphans of suitable age and circumstances. Even if they did, he had no real way of influencing the clan to dump them on Madara. 

Then perhaps a student? An apprentice would be difficult to maneuver as well, but there were the teams being put together of the new Academy graduates. However, he could already imagine the political difficulties. The parents and relatives would kick up a fuss without fail. There would be meddling and pointed questions about Madara’s suitability and even his mental stability, the opposite of what was needed. 

In that case, maybe start off with a team of already active shinobi? Tobirama had already declared a forced three weeks of standby for recovery, which he knew Hashirama would entirely support him on, but maybe taking missions regularly would benefit Madara’s mental state in general. With his notoriety and skill, assigning him a semi-permanent team would make sense, and building rapport through fighting side by side, no matter how grudgingly, had worked for many in the village. 

With Madara’s power and standing, the whole matter would have to be handled with care, of course. Anyone working with him would need to at least be strong enough to watch his back, not to mention their attitudes... 

Touka slowly lifted an eyebrow, correctly recognizing the look on Tobirama’s face as he turned back to her. 

“I’d love to help, but I don’t see what you think I can do,” she said. “Pretty sure I’m just another Senju to him.” 

“That’s fine,” Tobirama said. “I have a plan.” Or at least the beginnings of one. 

It wouldn’t be enough on its own. He knew better than anyone how deep the problems with Madara ran, not to mention everything with the Uchiha clan as a whole. But at least it would be a start. As long as he could at least start doing something, he could avoid that blind helplessness that had made him so stupid to begin with. 

He could at least start fixing his own mistakes. 

He couldn’t do anything less. 

(Tobirama had been a shinobi for two decades. He had seen worse things, and he was not the sentimental sort prone to nightmares to begin with. But that memory, of a… a comrade’s boneless half-dead body on his back, too cold compared to the blood soaking through his armor and uniform, and a weak, mocking breath against his ear saying, ‘You want me dead, don’t you? Why are you pretending?’ It kept returning again and again when his thoughts slowed. Was that the person he looked to others? Someone who would kill even a comrade for paranoia and convenience? Was that... the kind of person he was, deep down? He didn’t want that.)

(He would fix it. Somehow. He would find a way. Or else the guilt would keep eating at him for the rest of his life.)

~.~


	5. Obito and Kakashi, linked

When they first returned from the disastrous mission at Kannabi Bridge, Kakashi had collapsed just as they made it back to Konoha and then spent the next week on the border between life and death. 

The cause wasn’t his injuries — relatively light, by the standards of wartime missions — but something far simpler and in some ways more dangerous for it. 

  
Chakra exhaustion. 

Obito’s Sharingan couldn’t be turned off, and the amount of chakra it drained from Kakashi, a non-Uchiha who had no particular compatibility with it, was excessively high, even when it was covered up to lessen the strain. By the same token, placing a seal on it didn’t shut it off either, as they found out when Minato conceded two days later that saving his student’s life was more important than keeping the Sharingan functional. 

No one understood why. Kushina swore that the seals they’d used should have been entirely effective, and yet… 

No one understood much of anything about transplanting Sharingan eyes, really. It certainly wasn’t something that would be allowed within Konoha, not with how jealously the clan guarded their bloodline trait, and if any outsiders had succeeded in acquiring an eye, well. It had looked increasing like trying to use it might have just killed them anyway. 

Even the Uchiha clan, as revealed when they were all but forced to hand over their records, had only transplanted eyes between clan members, and only those deemed to be sufficiently compatible. That compatibility, usually between close family members, was the key — they, after a short period of adjustment, could use the new eyes as their own, turning the Sharingan on and off freely. 

But then, as the situation entered the second week — chakra transfusions proving to not be a long term solution, and Minato and the medics seriously discussing the possibility of removing the eye, no matter how much Kakashi would doubtlessly hate it when he regained consciousness — it suddenly just… 

...got better. 

Not all at once, not like flipping a switch, but the change was obvious and visible. The drain on Kakashi’s chakra quickly lessened, and within another day, he was able to regain consciousness, dazed and muzzy as it was. 

The hospital staff muttered something about adjusting, whether his body or Obito’s eye, but they didn’t have any clear explanation. 

Kakashi, once he was awake and aware enough for the situation to be explained to him, thought that maybe it was something like permission — to go on living, even though he’d failed so terribly. 

The next few weeks were spent adapting to the changes in his chakra system and in his body. Most of the time, he would be operating with only one eye and with all the depth perception and other problems that entailed. The rest of the time, he would have the Sharingan’s superior visual prowess, which also required getting used to. 

And of course, the chakra drain was a persistent problem. 

A very strange problem that didn’t seem to follow any logic that Kakashi could see. The drain was constant, yes, but it seemed to increase the more chakra Kakashi had and tamper down the less he had, all without any apparent effect on the Sharingan’s effectiveness. 

It probably wouldn’t kill him, but it would impact his field performance. He needed to account for that. 

...Kakashi didn’t report this part. 

He had been sufficiently prodded at and examined by far more people than could possibly be necessary to ensure that he wasn’t secretly dying. They had been the sort of people that set the alarm bells in his head ringing, too — medic nin with their faces covered and their eyes already starting the dissection, the Sannin Orochimaru, the elder Danzou... Better not to add to their curiosity, Kakashi judged. Otherwise, he might never be allowed back in the field at all. 

Otherwise, they might take it away, and he wouldn’t give it to them. Not Obito’s jounin present to him. Not... not the last thing left of their teammate. 

For the same reasons, Kakashi didn’t tell them when the Sharingan evolved either. 

When Obito awakened it, it had been two tomoe — really, Obito, overdoing it as always — but somewhere between one of his training sessions and a quick skirmish at the northern border, it had shifted to three. The difference had been obvious and startling the moment Kakashi lifted his slanted headband to join the fight. 

He didn’t know much about the Sharingan, much less a transplanted one, but that probably wasn’t supposed to... just happen out of nowhere. Not when Obito had struggled so much to awaken it at all. 

That mission, he misjudged the change in the Sharingan’s chakra usage and ended up barely able to remain standing from chakra exhaustion. He won, of course, but he couldn’t have managed even a shunshin or a kawarimi anymore. Letting out a shuddering breath, he closed his eyes. There wasn’t any change in his chakra at all. 

“Hatake! We’re clear here!” one of his teammates called out, appearing next to him. Taking in his state with a critical eye, the man said, “You should cover that thing up. We still need to head back.” 

Kakashi silently moved his headband back down over Obito’s eye. It didn’t make any difference, as he’d expected. 

It wasn’t drawing from him anymore, now that he basically had none left. But it was still active. So where...? 

Sometimes... sometimes Kakashi thought that maybe... 

‘Are you watching over me?’ he never quite formed the thought, too accustomed to denying sentimentality — and too afraid to face it. 

~.~ 

‘I'll become your eye and see the future with you,’ Obito had said. 

Kakashi thought about those words a lot, more than he should have. He didn’t want to admit how that wish gave him strength, but he also wondered — the only times Kakashi had reason to use Obito’s eye was in combat. To only show him more and more bloodshed... the fact that such an illogical concern affected him was the reason shinobi were meant to abandon emotions. 

But he was slowly coming to understand that he was a failure as a shinobi, so it hardly made a difference if he sometimes lifted up his headband and wandered the streets without any particular reason, when he was between missions and the increased chakra usage didn’t matter much. 

He wanted to show Obito good things too. 

Instead, he showed him the worst thing of all. 

He couldn’t keep his promise... 

~.~

He should have closed both eyes, Kakashi thought — and almost choked on the absurdity of it. 

The image of Rin impaled on his arm... It continued to replay in his mind, always vivid as life, not just the sight of her, but the physical sensations, the smell, the  _ emotions  _ hitting him with the same intensity every time. The Sharingan recorded everything perfectly indeed. During the day, in training or on the missions Minato-sensei was deeply reluctant to grant him, Kakashi could distract himself. But at night, lying away and staring at his dark ceiling or, worse, in his dreams... 

In his dreams, he could see himself. A spectator, helpless to change anything. 

And that was probably just dream stuff, just something that happened when your brain tried to process trauma. It sounded like the kind of thing his subconsciousness might spit out, unable to handle so much emotion a shinobi wasn’t supposed to have. ‘Don’t think of it as yourself, you are only an observer,’ was almost close to a shinobi rule that Kakashi, damningly, couldn’t remember at the moment. 

But because he didn’t want to think about it, desperate for anything else to focus on, Kakashi latched on to those dreams. With a detached precision, he considered them. 

There was himself. There was Rin. (Don’t think about that.) There was the sound and glow of Chidori.  _ (Don’t think about that.) _

There was the rocky coast, the dark sea out beyond them, the Kiri squad all around them. There was the rain, the downward path of each droplet extremely clear in the way only the Sharingan allowed. 

In between, like every other frame had been replaced, was Rin right in front of him, his own arm through her chest. 

(DON’T THINK ABOUT THAT)

There was Kakashi. There was Rin. He could see them both. 

There was a shadow moving across his vision, the fall of unkempt hair getting in the way. There was a certain sense of imbalance — he was seeing it from the right eye, Kakashi understood through experience. 

He always closed his right eye when using Chidori, to better focus on the visual prowess of Obito’s Sharingan. 

He was seeing from the right, but he could also see the flow of chakra and the predictive path of each motion with the Sharingan. 

He hadn’t been able to catch Rin, when he pulled his arm free. His entire body had already gone weak with shock and chakra exhaustion, and Obito’s eye had burned painfully, drawing far more than Kakashi could ever remember. She had toppled backward and— No, that wasn’t what he should be thinking. 

The dreams often showed nothing but that single vision of Rin’s death. But sometimes, there were flashes of something else too. 

A narrow scope of vision, like a peephole. Kiri nin being torn apart. Bare tree branches, trees covered in blood. The moon between the clouds, dyed red. 

Rin’s face, floating in a pool of blood. Reaching for her. 

Reaching for her... 

Startling awake with a muffled gasp, Kakashi stared up at his dark ceiling. His heart was pounding in his ears, and his entire body was covered in cold sweat. He reached up, looking at his hand. Slowly, he turned it over, studying the palm, the fingers. 

That hand... had it been his? 

That dream... that vision... had it been...

“It’s just a dream,” Kakashi muttered, covering his right eye and pressing down with the heel of his hand. “What else could it be?” 

Seeing with the Sharingan from the right eye— 

“That’s impossible,” he muttered to himself. “It’s just a dream. I’m just...” 

Just going crazy, a little. 

Except, that inkling of  _ something  _ had wiggled into his head and he couldn’t stop considering it, just a little. Was it just a dream? Or was there something else? After all, there had been someone there, on that terrible mission. Someone had killed their Kiri pursuers, Minato had told Kakashi afterwards. He hadn’t said anything else, though. And thinking on that, picking it apart in the middle of the night just so that he wouldn’t have to think about that single memory of Rin, Kakashi wondered if that wasn’t strange in itself. 

Branches and trees... 

He was already halfway through a plan to get his hands on the mission report from the retrieval team when he realized what he was doing. 

‘...Just this. If there is nothing, I won’t think about it anymore,’ Kakashi told himself firmly. 

Yes. He just needed to prove to himself that it was an impossible thought. 

For missions that were not completely off the books, several records were kept of the reports, and for a disaster involving an enemy village and a bijuu, the information would be too potentially important down the line to purge. Breaking into the Archive Library came entirely too easily to Kakashi — before he could think better of the insane, nearly treasonous thing he was doing — and soon a copy of the relevant reports was in his hands. 

He crouched in a corner next to a bookshelf and leafed through the pages. The details of Rin’s original mission before she was taken, the cold, clinical information on her abduction and his team’s efforts to chase after her, even Kakashi’s own report, which he couldn’t remember writing even though the words clearly belonged to him... and also the report of the team who retrieved him and Rin’s body. 

Half of it was blacked out. 

It was clear and obvious information concealment, removing anything that was deemed too sensitive. Even just skimming the surrounding sections and the few scattered words that were still left unmarked, Kakashi could tell that the redacted details had to do with the bijuu sealed into Rin... and the state of the Kiri nin’s bodies, how the unknown party had killed them. 

That second one didn’t make sense. Why hide an outsider’s abilities? If anything, that information should have been shared, added to the bingo books.

Unless those abilities were not ‘outside’ for Konoha. 

Branches and trees... 

Mokuton. 

Just like in his ‘dream.’

Closing the record, Kakashi took a deep breath and then another. 

He pushed down the first thought before it could form, too fantastical and naive to even be acknowledged, and considered the second. 

The Shodai Hokage’s famed bloodline had not passed on to any of his descendants, nor among the rest of the Senju clan. It did not exist naturally, which meant that anyone using it had gained it through experimentation. 

In other words, a bloodline thief. 

A thief who was connected somehow to Kakashi, a connection that let him see out of a right eye with the visual prowess of the Sharingan... 

A thief. 

They didn’t know what happened to Obito’s body. They’d had to leave him there beneath the rocks. 

_ A thief.  _

Kakashi’s hands clenched, crumpling the records he was still holding. 

~.~ 

“Rin,” he choked out, “Rin, I think someone might have taken Obito’s other eye.” 

He hadn’t brought flowers this time. Kneeling closer to her grave than he had ever dared to come, he leaned in as if sharing a secret — and it was. There was no one else he could tell, no one else he’d dare reveal his suspicions to. 

Kakashi knew he was probably overreacting and jumping to conclusions. If he told Minato, that was the reassurance he’d receive. And if he mentioned the strange dreams, the double visions... well. He was lucky he hadn’t gotten dissected as it was, with all the poking and prodding he’d undergone. Now that they were moving toward peacetime and the demand for every able body in the field was decreased... 

He couldn’t tell anyone, whether because he’d be talked out of it, forbidden from acting, or something worse. Kakashi didn’t want to be talked down, much less outright ordered to stop — not when there was even the slightest chance he was right. 

“The village will officially declare the war over in a few days, and I’ll request leave after that. Then, I’m going back to that place,” Kakashi went on, explaining the poor excuse of a plan he had decided on. “I have to make sure. And if I’m wrong, then at least I’ll bring Obito’s body back.” Furrowing his brows, he muttered, “We shouldn’t have left him there to begin with.”

But what choice did they have, back then? They had been at war, and that cave had been in the middle of enemy territory. Even now, with active hostilities all but over, going there was extremely dangerous — which was why Kakashi had no intention of letting anyone know where he’d be headed. He would just apply for leave from active duty and then sneak out. In peacetime, leaving the village while off duty wasn’t technically illegal. Just very suspicious. 

Doing so immediately after the village stepped down from wartime footing was suspicious enough to earn a trip to T&I, if not an outright accusation of treason, but Kakashi refused to even consider that. 

He couldn’t leave behind the only thing he had left of his teammates. 

“I’ll bring him back,” Kakashi said, gingerly reaching down to touch Rin’s gravestone with the very tips of his fingers. “I promise.” 

Requesting to be taken off the active duty roster went about as he had expected. Minato-sensei — Yondaime-sama now — had studied him with a faint frown, puzzled since Kakashi had never taken time off when not forced to, but he had caved easily when Kakashi muttered something about wanting to clear his head. 

If anything, Minato appeared almost relieved. Probably at not having to worry about his last student’s mental state, Kakashi supposed. 

“Alright. Take all the time you need,” Minato assured him. “There was an assignment I was thinking of giving you... but it can wait.” 

After getting his leave approved, Kakashi spent a few days loitering around the village to make his story more solid and surreptitiously prepare for his departure. Cleaning his apartment, working through his training routine, dodging Gai — all while his mind buzzed with both dread and anticipation. 

Then, on the fourth night, he slipped out after midnight, bypassing the still tight guard patrols and dashing off into the forest. 

Rather than try to head directly toward the collapsed cave, Kakashi followed the route their team had taken back then. It had been less than a year since the mission to destroy Kannabi Bridge, but the landscape had been rearranged by the fighting that had dragged out toward the end of the war, becoming almost unrecognizable in places. Most of the giant mushroom forest had been uprooted by Doton jutsu, and the rolling grassy plains were completely gone. It was better to be safe than risk losing his way. 

Even so, there was no way he wouldn’t find it. That place was etched in his memory. 

The bodies of the Iwa nin who ambushed them and were subsequently killed by Minato had been removed at some point, whether by Konoha for research, by Iwa for burial, or by some scavengers looking to sell them to the underground body trade. Even the stray kunai and shuriken had been dug out of the trees and boulders. 

But the pile of rubble that had been the cave entrance appeared undisturbed. Kakashi let out a short, quiet breath. 

Summoning three of his dogs in a puff of smoke and sending them to keep watch, he got to work. 

~.~

Clearing out the collapsed rocks was the work of more than a day, even with judicious use of Kakashi’s increased repertoire of Doton. Most of it he had to move by hand anyway, both from lack of chakra and concern for... collateral damage. 

It took all of Kakashi’s self control and discipline to stop every time he drew close to his limits, to chew half-heartedly through some rations, drink some water, and rest the precisely necessary amount. Burning himself out would not only slow him in the end, but would be reckless and stupid besides. This area was hardly safe, even with the war officially over, and he had no backup, no one who even knew where he’d gone. 

But slowly, the pile of rubble began to clear away, revealing the mouth of the cave and deeper into the now wider passage. 

There was still no sign of tampering. There was no body either. 

Measuring his steps, Kakashi walked into the dark opening that had slowly grown deeper through his efforts. The last memories he had were unclear — they had been almost to the entrance, close enough for Obito to throw him free, but he didn’t remember the exact distance. It should have been about this far, he supposed. 

The ground was chilled and slightly damp under his fingertips as he kneeled and swept his hand through the dirt. Closing his single visible eye, Kakashi concentrated on his sense of smell instead. It had been too long, but there was a chance he could pick up some faint trace of blood… 

It was the scent that gave it away. 

There had been no sound, no sense of presence, and even the shadow from behind him had been precisely hidden in his blind spot. Even the scent hadn’t drawn closer gradually — it was just there, between one moment and the next. 

There was someone standing precisely at Kakashi’s back, completely motionless. 

Kakashi’s eye snapped open in shock, but he reflexively repressed every other reaction. His first instinct was to spin around and attack, taking the initiative, but he discarded it before his fingers could even twitch toward his weapons pouch — his opponent already had the initiative and was certainly on their guard. There was no cover in the shallow opening Kakashi had excavated, and nowhere to run. It was a battlefield completely disadvantageous to him. 

And yet, the other party had made no move to spring their trap, only standing silently as if waiting. Even though there was no basis for it, Kakashi felt certain — this was the one he had suspected.  _ The thief.  _

That made their reasons obvious. They wanted to question him first, find out what Kakashi knew, what he’d told and to whom, whether he had any backup. 

Fine then. Kakashi had plenty of questions of his own. 

“Maa, did you get lost?” he drawled with an outward nonchalance, slowly rising. “If you want to ask for directions, no need to be shy.” 

The silence behind him changed, taking on a different, deeper feeling. The presence that had previously been completely suppressed suddenly spilled out, radiating a choking sort of ill intent. It was hardly something surprising or new to Kakashi, but...

It felt personal. Whoever this was, they  _ hated  _ him. 

He finally turned, the prickling feeling at his back making his hands twitch, and got a good look at his opponent. 

A nondescript black cloak. Short-cropped dark hair. A mask with one eyehole. 

Silhouetted by the afternoon sunlight, it wasn’t possible to make out the eye within, but Kakashi knew with certainty that it was red and slowly spinning as it focused on him with unerring intent. 

With an effort, he kept his breathing even and his stance loose. He couldn’t let emotion overtake him, it would only lead to stupid mistakes. He was facing an opponent of unknown abilities, who quite likely knew Kakashi’s own skills in detail. He had no backup and not even the chance of his disappearance being investigated. The most important thing was to get away. It wasn’t just a personal quest now — Minato-sensei would help him, the entire Uchiha clan would help. 

He needed to get away here and now, and then he’d hunt down this thief without mercy next time. Slowly he took a deep breath, making sure he would remember the other party’s strange scent. 

Something plant-like and unnatural, and underneath it... 

It was familiar. Too different to be the same, and yet familiar. 

‘Get a grip,’ Kakashi thought sharply. ‘You’re just imagining things.’ 

That had to be it. It couldn’t be anything else. 

Now that he was standing and facing his opponent, he realized they were about the same height, and Kakashi was still far from hitting his full growth. Even swathed in the shapeless dark cloak, the other was clearly thin and lacking the solid build of an adult. 

He was just imagining things. It didn’t mean anything. 

But even telling himself this, Kakashi moved without thinking, pushing up his slanted headband to stare back with an equally crimson, matching eye. 

...There was almost no pull on his chakra at all, even once it was open. It was a nebulous impression, but Kakashi suddenly felt like he understood. The chakra for Obito’s Sharingan was coming from elsewhere, just like it did when Kakashi was at his limit. Because those eyes were still connected. 

His eye was still connected to... 

“So you figured it out,” the person across from him spoke. The voice was slightly raspy and hoarse, but still so familiar, just like the scent. 

It couldn’t be. 

But... 

The possibility that Kakashi had been repressing and denying as too miraculous and too impossible was right in front of him. 

He stumbled back a step, his composure giving way completely. 

“So? Find what you were looking for, Kakashi?” Obito asked, spreading his arms — he had two arms, even though his body had been  _ crushed. _ Each word was heavy with mocking and sharp with malice. 

Of course it was. After all, Kakashi had… they had all… 

If Obito had stabbed him right through the heart there and then, Kakashi wouldn’t have resisted. He would have probably welcomed it with open arms. 

However, Obito didn’t move, only staring at him balefully. The silence between them stretched, taut and brittle. Someone needed to make the first move, but it seemed that both of them had been taken off guard by this encounter. Was it possible that Obito’s emotions were just as tangled and overwhelming as Kakashi’s? 

Fixated on the person in front of him, he almost didn’t notice the way the ground shifted strangely just behind Obito, until  _ something _ began to rise up. 

And it was certainly a  _ thing, _ for all that it had a head, a torso and a body that emerged from underground. Unnaturally pale, with broad protrusions from its waist like some kind of maw, half of it completely black as if covered in a dark sludge — there was no telling what it was. 

Kakashi’s eyes darted to it and he jumped in surprise, at the same moment as Obito also turned to look at it. He, however, showed no particular reaction. Or at least, nothing that could be seen under his mask. There was no surprise either. Probably... this thing was familiar to him. 

“This is a good chance,” the thing said. “You should take it back now.” 

“That’s not up to you,” Obito replied immediately, his tone curt and radiating rejection. 

“You’ll be much stronger, you know,” the thing added in a different voice entirely. “With both halves of Kamui, and even Susano’o will be possible…” 

“Shut up and get lost,” Obito growled, unwilling to entertain whatever it was telling him. 

No. Kakashi understood what it was saying. Now that he was looking at this unnatural creature instead of Obito, his mind finally began to function again, walling off the unstable torrent of emotion. It was easy to understand — it was talking about Obito’s Sharingan. It wanted Obito to take it back. 

The strange thing hesitated for a moment, then pressed on. “You remember,” it said, “he’s the one who—”

Obito bristled, growling low in his throat, but this time it was not necessarily a protest. In the single eyehole of his mask, his Sharingan gleamed red as he turned a heated, hate-filled glare on Kakashi. Whatever objections he had were at least momentarily swept away by the fury the mention of Rin brought. 

He really had seen it… 

No, Kakashi revised his assessment again, his head fuzzy behind the cold logic. It wasn’t — just — about the Sharingan. This thing wanted him  _ dead. _

If Obito really had stabbed him from the start, Kakashi wouldn’t have fought back. But for some other unknown party angling toward that, pushing on Obito to make it happen? Kakashi’s eyes narrowed, details and instincts falling into place, forming a pattern he didn’t like at all. 

Obito was alive and standing in front of him, even though his body should have at the very least been heavily damaged. His scent was strange and almost unrecognizable, and it seemed he could use Mokuton, a lost ability of the Shodai Hokage. Connecting those together, Obito had survived due to some experiment — but who had performed it? 

And what was this thing goading him? Who had made it? Who was controlling them both?

An enemy of Konoha? 

A secret cell within the village? 

Kakashi was shinobi enough to know both were possible. He also didn’t care. 

Consciously and purposefully, he let his stance loosen, not reaching for a weapon but ready to move at a moment’s notice. The Sharingan spinning in his left eye would read the slightest movement to attack. With the collapsed cave at his back, he didn’t have much room to maneuver, and something like a jutsu to hide underground... That black and white thing still hadn’t entirely emerged, so it would be too much of a gamble. 

HIs only chance would be to quickly slip past, to the cave opening. Out in the open, he’d find a way to run. 

Not that running was what Kakashi wanted to do. The ideal outcome would be to take Obito back to Konoha and Minato-sensei, but Kakashi emotionlessly pushed down that kind of unrealistic daydreaming. 

A mature Sharingan, Mokuton, and unknown other abilities... Trying to disable against an opponent aiming to kill... First and foremost, Kakashi needed to make sure he didn’t die here. 

If he died, no one would know Obito was still alive, and no one would be able to help him. Kakashi’s death was what that eerie thing wanted, so his objective was naturally the opposite. 

Escape. Gather intel. Strike back with the advantage. 

(He couldn’t strike at that thing, no matter how much he wanted to. It was already watching him, and he knew even less about it than Obito. It wouldn’t work. He couldn’t attack. He  _ knew that.) _

The mental calculus took only an instance. Then, Kakashi went on the offensive. 

“Obito,” he said, the name heavy in his mouth, even though he had said it so many times to the memorial stone. The person in front of him froze, a minute shudder that only the Sharingan could see going through his body. Kakashi smiled, his eyes crinkling. “I’m glad you’re alive. Even if you’re late.” 

He didn’t wait for a reaction. 

Moving with full intent, Kakashi charged directly at Obito, hands reaching to grapple. 

It had to be with full intent, or else the Sharingan would easily read through the feint, Kakashi knew this from experience. He also knew that the simplest way to trick the Uchiha’s famous doujutsu was to do exactly what you wanted to look like you were doing — and also do something else too. 

He grabbed at his opponent, certainly, and even got a good grip of his too large black cloak, but when Obito retaliated with a snarl and a brutal kick, Kakashi only blocked it enough to avoid having his ribs broken and allowed himself to be knocked away by the blow. The direction was just right, sending him to the side and out of the dead end of the collapsed cave. 

Rolling to his feet, he used the momentum to propel himself into a shunshin, up and out of the incline of the cave’s opening. The area was covered with sparse woods, and if he could just make it to the treeline… 

A chain, thick iron links clinking against each other, lashed out at his back, but Kakashi managed to just avoid it. It struck the ground past his shoulder, sending up a shower of dirt and rock shards — more than enough force to shatter bone, and even a glancing blow would make him stagger. 

He couldn’t afford that, not if he wanted to make it out. 

So he’d have to make sure not to get hit. 

That reasoning was more correct than he knew. 

The chain — or maybe a second one, he didn’t turn back to check — lashed out again just as Kakashi reached the treeline and darted up the first tree trunk. It gouged deep into the bark and inner pulp, making the tree groan and slowly begin to tip over. However, Kakashi paid that no mind, already leaping deeper into the foliage.

Glanding back, he could see Obito’s dark-swatched figure standing at the roots, mask turning to watch him flee but otherwise completely still. Taking the chance to put on an extra burst of speed regardless of how his muscles burned, remembering the hard work he had been putting in until then, he still expected some trick or ambush… but nothing came. 

As he rushed further away, the Sharingan began to weigh heavier, drawing more chakra as the distance between it and its true owner increased. 

Obito really was letting him go, just like that. (Was he also...?) 

Good. That was good. Because Kakashi would find him again soon. 

Now that he knew, he would absolutely never leave him behind again. 

‘I’m glad you’re alive. Please — hang on a little longer!’

~.~

“You’re just letting him go?” the white half of Zetsu wondered. 

“He’ll tell his village,” Black Zetsu warned far more harshly. “It’ll only make our mission harder.” 

Obito didn’t answer for a long moment, still staring after his former teammate. “It doesn’t matter,” he said finally. “He doesn’t know about Kamui or about our plan. What can he do?” 

It was obvious Zetsu did not agree, even if it didn’t press further. Its silence was resentful and full of reprimand, but Obito had stopped caring about its opinions the time he stopped caring about everything else except the Moon’s Eye plan. 

He didn’t care about Kakashi either. Let him run like a coward, just like Obito had always known he was. 

Even if he told someone, who would believe him? What proof was there? And even if they knew, what could they do about it? 

It didn’t matter, and there was no point in taking the chance of revealing his real abilities while chasing him down. 

That was all. 

‘I’m glad you’re alive.’ 

What nonsense. 

~.~


	6. Ghost team AU

~.~

“Alright, everyone! Settle down!” Iruka called out, making his way to the center of the classroom. Despite his scolding, his tone was good natured and even a little nostalgic — after all, this would be the last time he could lecture these children. “You are genin now, not just Academy students. Act like it!” 

“Yes, sensei!” the class sounded off out of tune, slowly quieting and settling in their seats. 

Smiling at the sight of their eager little faces, Iruke held up the clipboard and opened his mouth to begin reading off the team assignments. 

But the breath he’d taken caught in his throat as he looked at the writing on the sheet. 

Because the second block down in the right hand column… it was no longer empty. 

It was supposed to be empty! That team was never filled in! It was tradition, going all the way back to the founding of the village and the Academy. It had definitely been empty just the day before, when Iruka received the assignments from the Hokage. He’d even read the whole thing over just last night, thinking about how his little students would be divided up, how their personalities would work together, trying to puzzle out the Sandaime’s reasoning for some of the match ups. This team had definitely been empty then. 

Was it another prank? Iruka was sure he had never left the assignments sheet unattended, wary of some student trying to sneak a peek, but he supposed it was possible. The pranks that plagued the village had been untraceable despite all efforts to find the culprit, even by jounin far stronger than Iruka. 

His eyes caught on the third name, and the possibility faded from Iruka’s mind. No one would joke about  _ that _ clan. 

This was for real, he realized, swallowing against his suddenly dry throat. He’d been warned about this, when he became an instructor. He’d mostly thought it was hazing, really, or people making fun of the new guy. 

‘If it happens to you... just keep going. Your only job is to read it out. Don’t get involved in it more than you have to...’ 

....is what he’d been told. 

Taking a deep breath, Iruka glanced at those three names again — and began to read. 

“Team 1, Takahashi Reika...” 

He couldn’t quite stop his voice from hitching a little when he reached the seventh team. He didn’t look at the class even once the last team was announced, keeping his gaze on the posters on the back wall instead. 

“Your jounin sensei will come to pick you up, so wait here. Take the chance to get to know your new team. And no goofing off! You’re real shinobi now!” he scolded out of habit, though his heart wasn’t in it. 

Barely paying attention to the class’s response, he departed quickly — only just short of sprinting to the administrative area of the building and the Hokage’s office. The Sandaime glanced at him questioningly as Iruka slipped inside, easily able to read his agitation. 

“Hokage-sama,” he greeted him with a distracted, habitual bow, lowering his voice respectfully only to immediately raise it again. “There’s... There’s a new Team 7!” 

~.~

In Konoha, there was a certain tradition. It was said to have originated from the founder, Senju Hashirama himself, but no one was entirely sure. 

Students graduating from the village’s Academy were divided into teams of three and assigned a jounin sensei, but — per this tradition — the “lucky number” Team 7 was always left blank in every cohort. 

There were many theories why, but the original reasoning had not been recorded. The most popular anecdote said that Senju Hashirama had wished to keep a place for all the children who did not have a chance to study and grow up into fine shinobi, dying on the battlefields of the warring clans era before the village could be founded. 

A wish to give a place to the dead... if that was indeed the reason, it had come true in an unexpected way. 

Because, sometimes, the empty spaces of Team 7’s roster would inexplicably end up filled with three names, and three children would appear among the graduates, even though no one had seen them before. 

Some of them were ghosts. Some of them were spirits of another sort. 

But since they were willing to put on the leaf headband and serve Konoha as loyal ninja, over the generations, the village had simply... accepted their presence. There were stranger things in the world shinobi than a team of ghosts. 

Team 7, the team of ghosts. It was no wonder Kakashi ended up there twice. 

Kakashi’s team — not his first one, when he graduated Academy at age five, but the one he thought of as his real team — had been a “Team 7” too. So he wasn’t surprised, precisely, when the Sandaime ordered him to take on the newest one as their jounin instructor, after an urgent summons early that morning. 

Unsurprised, but unenthusiastic and also unwilling. After all, whatever these children were, they were just like living humans, now that they had given themselves over to Konoha. Becoming Team 7 meant a chance to live among humans, but also the inevitability of death. They bled and died just like everyone else. There was no difference at all. 

Seeing those three names hadn’t made it better. 

Haruno Sakura, Uchiha Sasuke, and Uzumaki Naruto. 

One that was just faintly similar enough to call up a still-painful memory. One that was a direct, raw reminder. And one that... he didn’t understand, even though he certainly recognized it. 

The three children sat across from him on the roof, looking suspicious and still annoyed about the long wait. 

“Well then,” Kakashi said. “Let’s introduce ourselves. First, why don’t you tell me your names... what you are... and also, what you’re after.” 

He pretended to smile. 

“Why don’t you go first, sensei?” the girl suggested. “Are you a human being?” 

“That’s right,” Kakashi agreed easily. “Hatake Kakashi. A human. Just an average Konoha-nin, serving the village. So how about you next?” 

The girl grimaced, caught out. “Y-yeah, okay. I’m Haruno Sakura. I’m a spirit of the land. I just want to learn more about humans and how they live. And um... maybe meet a certain person again...” Unexpectedly, she blushed, her gaze sliding away from everyone in embarrassment and wiggled slightly. 

A spirit that had met a human and became fascinated. Normal enough. 

“Next, the one in the middle,” Kakashi said. 

“Uchiha Sasuke,” the dark haired boy he’d nodded vaguely toward introduced himself. “I died. My goal is to find my brother.” 

An Uchiha, of course. Almost every Team 7 had one of the infamous clan that had been massacred before Konoha’s founding and whose ghosts still lingered, unable to move on. 

“Find your brother? In the living world?” Kakashi wondered. All of them had been killed decades ago, including certainly his brother. And as far as Kakashi knew, there were no other Uchiha ghosts in Konoha at the moment either. He remembered Obito saying that the ones on the teams before theirs had already all passed on, and the one on the single team since then had disappeared.

A strange disappearance — was that it? Or something else that Kakashi didn’t know about? 

“Did you lose him?” the blond boy on the other end wondered. 

“I don’t know,” Sasuke said. “But I  _ will  _ find him.” 

“Alright then, and the last—” 

“I’m Uzumaki Naruto!” the blond boy shouted before Kakashi could finish, thrusting one arm into the air and waving impatiently. “And I’m going to become Hokage, so everyone will acknowledge me!” 

Kakashi’s eyebrows jumped slightly. 

“That’s great, but what are you?” Sakura said bluntly, her earlier coquettishness completely wiped away. “I’ve been wondering for a while. You feel weird.” 

“I’m me!” Naruto shot back, his lower lip jutting out. “Uzumaki Naruto!”

And that name... was quite a problem. ‘What are you,’ indeed. Kakashi had wondered the same thing when he first looked at the list of team assignments the Sandaime handed him, and he was sure the old man had shared his thoughts. 

‘Uzumaki,’ the name of another dead clan. 

‘Naruto,’ the name of a child that didn’t even have the chance to be born. 

And that face, too. It was exactly between the two of them, Minato-sensei and Kushina. 

“That doesn’t even—” 

“OK, that’s enough for today,” Kakashi cut off the girl before she could continue arguing. “We’ll meet again tomorrow for a little test...” 

He couldn’t actually fail them. It was hard to guess what would even happen if he tried, but Kakashi also didn’t have the heart to do it. After all, these kids couldn’t just try again later or even live peaceful lives as civilians. This team was their only chance. 

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t give them a good scare and teach them an important lesson first. 

In the world of the living, they would only have each other. The sooner they understood that, the better for them. 

~.~


	7. Madara and Indra, bonds

The chakra of the Divine Tree’s fruit was a potent, heavy thing. Created from the distilled natural energy of a thousand years, it was a power that could bend the world with its very existence. From within Kaguya, it had then been divided out to her sons, then the eldest’s sons, and even all of humanity. 

The tiny pieces within each human were like candle flames in the wind, unable to linger once the wick of life had burned up, constantly scattered and then gathered up to create new lives again. 

But the greater fragments within those of Kaguya’s blood… They lingered, never fading as long as their will remained. 

Surely, somewhere beyond both the living and the dead, the Sage of Six Paths still watched over the world. 

It had to be. After all, Indra was still here, drifting through eternity. Their father was surely the same. 

He didn’t know why he was still here. 

At first, he had thought that the curse he’d uttered too carelessly, driven by his resentment, had somehow become real. To destroy the ninshu his father had created and entrusted to his brother... What meaningless pettiness. Why had he been so angry? Why was it? He couldn’t recall the reason, his thoughts back then lost to him. And even the feelings that had driven him had slipped away. 

But even if it was a curse — upon himself — ninshu was already long gone. Asura’s teachings had been too gentle, given too freely, and it wasn’t long before they were swept away by the fury of the ever-repeating conflicts. Those that preached peace were all too easily put to the blade, and those that survived could only pick up a blade to protect themselves in turn. 

It couldn’t be helped, Indra thought, unable to even muster up resentment toward his younger brother’s ultimate failure. The world was that kind of place. Even their grandmother, a goddess and a demon, had been unable to quell humanity’s wars. Even their father couldn’t. 

The only thing that remained was ninjutsu. He couldn’t even take pride in that. 

His and Asura’s names had been lost to the sands of time. The promise and purpose of ninshu had vanished without meaning. Even the legend of the Divine Tree, the demon-goddess and the Ten Tails had been forgotten. 

So why did something of Indra still remain? 

The world was separated from him by a veil, or some distance that was both close and far, yet could not be crossed. He was aware of the passage of time, but the events that took place, the cities and nations, the faces of the people had all become blurred and obscured since the last of his brother’s students had bled out on the unforgiving earth — as if they had been the last link between him and the living. 

Sometimes though… sometimes there were figures that were just a little more distinct. The shape of their silhouettes and their features were almost visible to him as they passed by, moving along the course of their lives. An echo of their voices, their thoughts and struggles would sometimes reach him. Perhaps they had inherited something that made them just a little closer to the ancient powers… and to him. 

Indra watched them, but even if he called out, they could not hear him, and with every generation that passed by, even those glimpses meant less and less. 

_ “—one of five. Or at least, I was—” _

_ “—a village—” _

_ “—he’s stronger than me—’” _

It had started again, another cycle. Closing his eyes, Indra turned away. 

_ “—peace—” _

_ “—kill your brother or yourself—’” _

_ “Enough. You’ve shown me your guts.” _

_ “But from this point onward, we’ll turn that dream into reality.” _

Peace. A dream. An end to fighting. It wasn’t possible, of course. The only question was whether it would vanish within a year or a generation. 

It couldn’t last. 

_ ‘It can’t last. How naive...’  _

Indeed. 

...Ah. That hadn’t been his own thought. Well, at least this one already understood the truth of things. 

Indra looked at him. The silhouette of this person was still hazy, the way all things beyond the veil in the mortal world appeared, but there was a solidness to his presence that was rare. Indra could see the strong slant of his shoulders and the dark shadow of his hair and clothing. He was a soldier… no, a ‘ninja’. A powerful one, who had taken countless lives without mercy but still sought peace. 

Although it had been achieved, he had not rejoiced. The aura that clung to him was of hollowness and gloom. It was understandable, Indra thought. After all, it all had no meaning. Not war, not peace, not any accomplishment or struggle. 

No matter what power you grasped, it would not achieve anything. There were no answers in strength. 

But humans didn’t have the choice to just give up, so they could only continue futilely moving forward. Just like this one… 

What was his name? It was close, but just out of reach. 

_ "Seeking stability, one god... divided into yin and yang… Opposing two acting together... all things in creation..."  _

His features grew a little clearer as Indra watched him. His eyes flashed with a familiar power — the same as Indra himself, though the shape was different. So the Sharingan had been passed on even to this distant era. No wonder he understood so well the nature of the world, and no wonder he was already on the verge of giving up. 

_ "One possessing... power of Rinne... approach the moon... open eye reflecting... grant the eternal dream..."  _

Indra paused, those words piercing through his disinterest and detachment. 

The power of Rinne. 

He hadn’t realized before, but the words were all familiar, all much older than the dialect of the current times. It was the order that was just slightly wrong, and the meaning was distorted. And of course, there was no reason for someone among the living to pursue these lost myths. 

The man in front of him let out a harsh, shaky breath and reached up to rub at his eyes. Despite the level of his visual prowess, it strained both his eyes and his chakra to delve so deeply into what was hidden.  _ “The eternal dream…” _ he repeated.  _ “A god’s dream…” _

What he had seen were more than just words. There were sensory impressions and concepts engraved in the stone as well. Indra knew this because he was familiar with the stone that man had been studying. However, it seemed to have been changed. 

“Hmph. Waste not such effort… Tis but illusion,” he said, looking at the man again. 

He had only been speaking to himself, a thought he voiced on a whim. It was just a passing frustration at the sight of something foolish and ridiculous. 

And yet, inexplicably, that man slowly raised his head and looked straight at Indra, a faint tremor passing through his chakra. 

The two of them stared at each other, red eyes widening in matching, almost comical expressions of shock. It was hard to say who was more taken aback — the one who was seeing, or the one who had been seen. 

~.~ 

The man’s name was Uchiha Madara. 

It was difficult for them to communicate. Madara could only just perceive Indra’s form and voice, and it strained his senses to do so. And as Indra existed separately from the mortal plane, it was too easy for him to drift without noticing, days or weeks or longer passing by when he had simply looked away for a moment. It was only within the secret chamber of the shrine — as Madara explained was the nature of the place where the stone tablet was kept — that he could center himself enough to make his presence distinguishable. 

“If the knowledge inscribed on the tablet is false, then what is the truth?” Madara asked. Kneeling respectfully in the center of the hidden chamber, he was looking at Indra with an intense concentration, but his gaze drifted just enough for Indra to know that the man was unable to make out his face, no doubt seeing only a vague, blurred outline. 

“Truth of divinity divided... origin of divine power...” Indra said slowly. “Yet, this era has forsaken ancient myths." 

Unblinking, Madara studied Indra with the same dedication he had given the stone tablet that Indra now perched on. It was perhaps a little disrespectful to treat the monument as such, but it was more solid than anything else in the mortal realm, something that he could almost touch. 

Communication between them was always like that. Perhaps it had been too long and Indra had forgotten how to form his thoughts into words, or perhaps the language had simply changed too much, but everything he said came out as a riddle. Anyone else would have already given up... That hardheaded, almost spiteful stubbornness was similar between them. 

Even so, Indra wondered. 'Why do you pursue these ancient myths?' — that was his real question. 

Why are you here, speaking to a ghost, instead of the living out there? 

Indra... wasn’t sure whether he wanted him to give up or not. 

Face set in deep concentration, Madara slowly puzzled over his meaning. “Why am I asking?” he finally guessed. “Even though it shouldn’t matter after so long... Yes, those things are all fairy tales now. But, it may still have meaning. To understand the past is to understand the present. By knowing the origins of our current world, I may be able to find another path.” 

Making a soft sound, Indra watched him for a moment longer. “To be in search of a path... You wander pathless,” he surmised. 

“That... is correct,” Madara admitted, looking away. “I have... indeed lost my way.” 

“Mm. It shall be exchanged,” Indra decided. “Past,” — he held up one hand, palm up, and then the other, — “and present.” 

Another pause, then Madara’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You wish to know about the present?” 

That wasn’t quite right. Indra didn’t care much for the present era or the state of the world. It would soon change again, and none of it had any connection to him any longer. The reason he had asked was... 

He frowned and corrected himself,  _ “Your _ present.” Then, thinking a little further, he added, “Your  _ life.” _

This man was the one that could see him, and the one Indra could see in turn. Perhaps there was some purpose in that. 

Madara’s eyes had widened as he stared, lips parted slightly in surprise — Indra wasn’t sure why. Was this not something obvious? What else would Indra inquire about? 

“....As you wish,” Madara agreed before Indra could consider asking. Closing his eyes, he gathered his thoughts for a moment. Then, taking a deep breath, he began to speak. “I was born the son of the clan head and the oldest of five brothers...” 

Four of those brothers were dead. The clan head father had died as well, of course. There had been war, or at least neverending battles, fought now not by soldiers and spears but by shinobi in the shadows. His Uchiha clan had been powerful and feared, but even so, death was always just a step behind. Even the children were sent to face it, blade in hand. 

And then one day, he met a boy beside a river. Together, they dreamed of peace. 

In a way, that dream had been achieved. Their clans were living side by side, and a village had been formed. There were none who could oppose their combined strength, and their children could grow slowly, without fear. These things had all echoed back to Indra, vague and unclear as it had been, and he only listened quietly as Madara spoke. 

However. 

“Yet, you wander,” Indra said. 

Madara’s expression darkened. “I... don’t believe it can last, this peace.” 

“The wheel turns ever onward,” Indra agreed. 

“That’s right. Because nothing has changed. We are at peace now because we are the strongest, but villages are forming in other countries. It’s only a matter of time before wars resume on an even greater scale!” Madara went on, his voice rising. “We can protect this place and the children now, but how long will that last? When the fighting starts, and even their strength becomes needed—! It’ll just be the same thing again.” 

Indra remained silent. In truth, he didn’t know much of war. His childhood home had been protected by their father’s unmatched power, and his own prowess as an adult made him unassailable to everyone except his own blood. 

War had raged around him, sparking again the moment the great Sage passed on, but Indra had hardly cared. The land that was burned, the people that were killed... they had nothing to do with him. 

He didn’t know why the humans fought each other. 

The reason he and Asura had... that had been because... 

‘You’re wrong. Why can’t you understand? I’ll  _ prove _ it to you!’ That was what he’d thought. 

Asura had been wrong. Ninshu vanished, forgotten, and the only legacy that remained of their father was power that made even children into weapons. 

If his younger brother could see the world as it had become, he would have surely understood. Asura had been foolish, but he had not been selfish or cruel. If he had known that his leadership would mean ninshu’s end, he would have surely stepped aside himself. 

But Asura hadn’t understood. And Indra hadn’t been able to make him see. 

That... required words, not power. 

Indra had never been good with words. The only thing he could say was what their father had said to him. 

“Power without bonds welcomes only calamity,” Indra repeated. 

Madara’s gaze sharpened, his lips thinning and his chakra wavering unhappily. He visibly struggled with Indra’s words, but it seemed he couldn’t make sense of them either, and his agitation showed on his face. The lines of his features had become quite clear, easily showing his emotions. “Power without bonds... What does that mean?” he protested. “Whose power? Are you saying the village can’t rely on power to protect itself? Or...” 

He looked away, unexpectedly discomfited. 

“Those who cannot walk the same pace can but fear power with no bonds,” Indra said. 

This was another thing he had been told. This one, he understood. 

Because he had power, others feared him. They looked at him with suspicion and whispered behind his back. No one would come close, and even Asura... Indra had never had the words to bridge that gap. No matter how strong his ninshu, it had never let him ‘connect’. Was it a flaw in him? In them? In ninshu? 

“Whose power?” Madara insisted. “The village’s? The Uchiha clan’s? Mine?” 

They looked at each other in a long, drawn out silence. It wasn’t as if Indra could answer. He didn’t know either. Still... 

“Such disquiet,” he noted. 

‘You were always calm, no matter how difficult it was to understand me, but now you’re getting so worked up,’ was what he meant. ‘Why is that? What are you thinking of?’ It was only a question. However, Madara’s back straightened like a rod had been shoved into his spine, his expression closing off. 

“I was too impatient,” he said. “It is unseemly of me. For today, I will withdraw.” 

...It hadn’t been a reprimand. There was no need to leave. 

Madara didn’t wait for a reply Indra likely couldn’t have formed anyway. Rising to his feet, he swept out of the hidden chamber, leaving everything to fade into shadow again. The only thing Indra could still perceive was the stone table he rested on, which had once contained a hidden knowledge and now told lies. 

There was no one to see him pull his knees up and lower his head, closing his eyes. It didn’t really matter. Either he would come back, or he wouldn’t. There was nothing Indra could do to change the outcome. 

~.~ 

Madara did return. And although Indra could not accurately judge the passage of time, he felt that it unexpectedly hadn’t taken long at all. In what had been only a few days at most, Madara had regained his composure, but there was a certain fierceness behind his carefully controlled expression that hadn’t been there before. 

He executed the traditional greeting of cupped hands and half-bow with sharp, clean movements that no master would have found reproach with. Impressive, given that it was no longer used by the people of the current era and Madara had simply copied it from Indra the first time they had tried to greet each other. 

Indra stood, returning it. Then, the two of them knelt in perfect synchrony. 

Perhaps being at eye-level would help somehow. Indra would not admit to thinking this, and fortunately, Madara didn’t question it. Instead, he got right to the point. 

“About what you said before. What does ‘power with no bond’ mean?” he said. “Do you mean that power must be restrained or bound, or else it will bring calamity? By whom?” 

“Wrong,” Indra cut him off. As Madara fell silent, frowning, he explained, “Not ‘unbound’, ‘without bonds’ — lacking connection between people.” 

“Power that lacks connection between people... No, the one wielding the power lacks connections?” Madara said. “And that is... the village? The village needs to connect to... its people? Other villages?” With an effort, he smoothed out his expression, but he could only admit, “Honored ancestor, I do not understand the meaning of your counsel. Whose power are you referring to?” 

“Here,” Indra said simply, placing a hand on the center of his own chest. 

“You... were speaking from experience?” 

Right. It wasn’t counsel or some sage advice, it was just what Indra himself had been told. For some reason, realizing this made Madara’s expression twist oddly. What had he expected? Indra wasn’t a wiseman, and he knew nothing of the mortal realm now, must less of villages and wars. What kind of counsel could he offer? 

“This one shall complete the exchange,” Indra said finally, as the silence stretched. “On the matters of ancient legend, have you prepared to receive?” 

Shaking away his thoughts, Madara nodded seriously. “Please, honored ancestor.” 

“In age long past as well, great war burned fiercely across the earth,” Indra began. “To bring an end to it, a shooting star — a ghostly beauty presented to the emperor...” 

Long ago, wars were a constant, just as in the present. But a woman one day appeared before the emperor, the harbinger of great change that would shake the world. Her name was Ootsutsuki Kaguya. She was not a human, nor goddess or demon. She had come from among the stars to take the chakra fruit of the Divine Tree, which held unparalleled power gathered over a thousand years. 

However, instead of giving the fruit to her people, she devoured it and took its power into herself. 

With it, she put an end to the wars by becoming the sole, undisputed ruler. Any who dared to oppose her were given to the Divine Tree as nourishment. But in her kindness, she allowed them to fade within a blissful dream — rejecting her world, they could instead live in an illusionary world of their desires. 

She gave birth to two sons. 

Indra paused. It was easier, somewhat, to speak of those events than trying to communicate about himself or hold a conversation with Madara. It seemed... he was still being mostly understood. 

“Two offspring, divinity divided among them,” Indra went on. “No longer unopposed, ideals in conflict.” 

She gave birth to two sons, who inherited part of her power and chose to stand against her. No longer unopposed, Kaguya went on a rampage, merging with the Divine Tree into the monstrous Ten Tails beast. Bringing the world to the brink of destruction, she was finally defeated when her eldest son awoke the power of the Rinnegan. 

Separating her great chakra from her monstrous body, he sealed the chakra within himself and the body within the moon. From then on, he became known as the Sage of Six Paths. 

Until then, Indra’s story had indeed been nothing more than an abstract fairy tale, and the style of delivery made it sound almost like a parable, full of metaphor and removed from any real event. But that name — Madara recognized it immediately, his chakra sharpening with interest and intent. 

“The Sage of Six Paths...” 

“Our father,” Indra said pensively, drawing an even stronger reaction. 

“The Uchiha clan is descended from the Sage of Six Paths?” 

Indra sighed, indifferent to this. Although they had inherited his eyes, they were humans in every other way. It hardly made a difference, after so many generations. “From the great origin, the Rinne Sage, all life entrusted with chakra...”

The Rikudou Sage divided the power of the divine fruit among humanity, allowing all humans from then onward to use chakra. His goal had been to allow people to connect with each other and share their power. However, his wishes could not be made into reality. Ordinary humans struggled to access chakra within themselves and it was almost impossible for them to shape it into usable form. For this purpose, hand signs and jutsu were created. Yet, once the power of chakra could be harnessed, humans soon turned it into a tool of war. 

The peaceful teachings of ninshu were lost, leaving behind only conflict that stretched into modern day. 

Indra wasn’t sure whether there was a point in adding his own part of the story. He had lost, and Asura had continued their father’s teachings. Indra’s presence or absence made no difference, in the end. 

While he thought on this, Madara had fallen into a deep silence. 

“So even divine power cannot stop human conflict,” he said finally, his tone bitter. 

That was correct. The goddess Kaguya and the Sage of Six Paths, despite wielding power far beyond human ken, had failed to stop war for more than a single lifetime. The world did not change, swallowing their attempts and all but erasing even the memory of their existence. 

“And ninjutsu was a mistake to begin with,” Madara went on. “Shinobi were not meant to exist...” 

A mistake. Not meant to exist. 

Ninjutsu and ninja... no, further than that — humans wielding chakra, dividing the power of the Sage, and those that inherited, himself and Asura... 

Asura had always been so much like any other person. He understood them easily, and was understood in return. The one who had always remained out of place was Indra. Indra with his power and his eyes that made others fear. Eyes that could only show their power through loss and anguish... 

And even now, his existence persisted without purpose, a ghost that just wouldn’t disappear. 

A mistake... was a suitable term, wasn’t it? 

Even though he no longer had a body, something in his gut churned unpleasantly. This was—

Indra’s eyes snapped up, flaring red. He had sensed something strange, startling him out of his thoughts. What was it? Something familiar, from long ago — something like a cloying scent of sap or perhaps decay, natural and yet out of place. Sweeping his gaze over the blurred, darkened corners of the chamber, Indra tried to pin down the source. 

Finally, his eyes returned to Madara’s shadow, almost pure black and strangely deep, but whatever it was he’d sensed had already vanished. 

Why had it startled him so badly? What did it remind him of? It had been an old memory, just out of reach. 

A shadow in the woods... A whispering voice... 

“...Honored ancestor.” 

Indra raised his gaze back up toward Madara, only now realizing that his face had turned forbidding and he had begun to exude a certain level of pressure. However, rather than showing any unease, Madara had put on a somewhat pinched expression that Indra recognized — calculating whether a polite, perfunctory apology was socially necessary. 

Order and obedience to rules were important, and so was respect for authority. Thus, Indra had always made an effort to show proper respect to figures of authority... even though it was sometimes quite annoying. 

Now, as an “honored ancestor,” he had become the sort of annoying elder he’d mentally disparaged in his youth. 

It was a little amusing. 

“Mm,” Indra made a quiet sound, dismissing his prior thoughts and returning to their conversation. “With purpose or by misstep, you exist. You shall not vanish while with living breath.” 

Well, for him, he hadn’t vanished even after dying...

“...Yes, we are here now,” Madara agreed, sighing. 

The past had no answers, as it had been full of nothing but failure. To find the future was a difficult thing, and Indra felt a measure of sympathy. He had... perhaps mistakenly allowed this man to believe that he was a wise elder, giving hope for answers he did not possess. 

“This one’s honored father... said thus,” Indra added, reluctantly, “‘To understand the other’s pain is paramount. Only through sharing hardship can bonds be formed. Especially those with power must never forget the human heart.’ Though, this one cannot profess the meaning...” 

“We already all know the same pain. But creating bonds...” Madara muttered mostly to himself. “How do you make bonds where there are none?” 

“An enigma,” Indra said. “It appears this one also held no bonds.” 

None that were enough for their father, at least. Was it because they hadn’t suffered together? How could anyone share the exact same pain? Was it Indra’s fault that he had been unlike the others? What exactly was a bond supposed to be? 

Inexplicably, Madara seemed to choke on something and quickly looked away. 

“Keh... I am certain our honored ancestor had many bonds,” he said in a tone that was far too smooth, “to have founded the Uchiha clan, which endures to this day.” 

Indra suspected he was being mocked. Or at the very least, he was being pacified like a fussy old grandpa. This was completely unacceptable behavior from some brat... no, from one of his kinsmen. His eyes narrowed and he carefully made eye contact with Madara — before pointedly looking away. 

The connection between them wavered and faded, making Indra no longer able to be perceived. The world around him grew vague and distant as well, but Indra’s awareness of Madara remained. After all, that man was someone Indra had been connected to from the start, in some way. 

Madara remained seated in front of the stone tablet for a long time. The small smile he had revealed at Indra’s pointed exit had faded quickly, leaving him with a pensive expression. 

“Bonds only through sharing hardship... Is it really like that?” he finally muttered to himself. “But we have all experienced the same loss. The difference was sharing a dream, wasn’t it? Hashirama...” 

Letting out a quiet, heavy sigh, he stood and slowly departed from the hidden chamber. Once he had turned away, Indra’s gaze drifted to his back and followed him out. He still thought of it as ‘sight’, but his senses were no longer those of a living human. He could ‘see’ the crest on Madara’s back, even with the fall of long dark hair covering it, and he ‘watched’ Madara make his way back toward the village proper even long after the man had left the shrine. 

It had become easier as they interacted more. Everything beyond him was still hard to discern, as if he was walking through a thick mist, but Madara’s figure was always clear to Indra now. He was someone Indra had ‘seen’ in full. 

How long had it been since he last turned his attention to someone? ...Was there ever such a time at all?

A person who interested him… 

He wanted to know if Madara would be able to understand something in their father’s words. 

It would be good, if he could find an answer. 

~.~

It took Indra a good while to realize that he gained some degree of perception toward anyone Madara interacted with, as long as there was a certain intent behind it. A chain of perception, in a way — what Madara gave acknowledgement to would also become acknowledgable to Indra. 

This was hard to realize because Madara rarely interacted with anyone. 

He went home alone. He came to the shrine alone. Sometimes, he circled the village alone. As expected, he was indeed similar to Indra — a person who did not know how to form bonds with others. 

However, Madara had one bond that had not been severed. 

And ironically, it was with a man who felt so, so much like Asura. Senju Hashirama, the boy from the river, the one in Madara’s story. Indra nodded to himself as he connected the pieces. It felt strange and unfamiliar to know something clearly. The two of them — Madara and Hashirama — were close. If they had been students of ninshu, they would have connected as easily as breathing. They would have shared strength without the need for thought and never fought alone. 

But they were shinobi, and their chakra only reached toward each other tentatively and twined without quite touching. 

Although Indra could only make out his silhouette, this Hashirama’s feelings were easy to read in every expressive gesture. He could even see the flash of a smile, bright and excited that Madara had sought him out. 

The reason was the things they had discussed — bonds, shared hardships, and dreams.

All those existed between this pair, after all. 

Indra wanted to hear what they would say as well. He had… never spoken to Asura about these things, himself. What would his younger brother have said? He hadn’t thought Asura had any thoughts on it all, not the Asura who ran off to play in the forest every day as soon as he was released from training and never had much interest in ninshu or its future. 

To his consternation, Indra couldn’t make out Hashirama’s words at all. The general impression of the conversation on his side was there, but the details were completely lost, leaving only something like a reverberation from his voice that drifted through Indra’s senses. 

_ ‘Happiness. Surprise.’  _

“What? That’s just nonsense,” Madara protested, responding to the words Indra couldn’t hear. “Where do you even get these things, you buffoon?” 

_ ‘Amusement, happiness. Playfulness.’ _

“Stop getting depressed over every little thing! You’re supposed to be everyone’s leader.” 

_ ‘Playfulness. Happiness, happiness. A fading edge of worry. Curiosity.’  _

Madara made a sound of annoyance, his expression twisting up in something a bit too lighthearted to be called disgust. Indra couldn’t understand this at all. The feelings and the half conversation he could hear didn’t match up. Exactly what was making this Hashirama so happy about getting scolded? 

He wanted to know. He really wanted to know. 

And for that, Indra needed to be there. There was no reason he couldn’t be. He just needed to focus. He formed the image in his mind — the red and white crest on Madara’s back, hidden but perfectly clear to Indra. And once he had imagined it, it became his reality, and Indra found himself standing directly behind Madara. 

Without thinking much about it, he reached out and touched his back, over the crest, to better anchor himself. 

“...a matter I wanted to— guh!” 

Madara cut off mid-sentence with a startled, awkward noise. 

Oh, so he felt that? Interesting. 

It had worked, Indra noted. Their surroundings were still rather blurred, but the figure in front of them — Hashirama — had gained a more definite edge. Although Indra still couldn’t make out his words clearly when he spoke, most likely asking Madara what had happened, they were just on the edge of intelligible, only muffled by something like a wall or a depth of water. His voice was deep and warm. 

“N, no, it’s nothing,” Madara muttered, holding himself stiffly. It was obvious he wanted to look around suspiciously but simultaneously didn’t want to break his composure further. 

Indra stepped around him and sent a quick glance his way. As expected, Madara could see him and his expression twitched with some quickly suppressed emotion. 

Come to think of it… had Indra ever clarified that he could leave the shrine? 

“Continue,” Indra prompted him instead of an explanation. “This one observes.” 

_ “—Madara? Madara, hellooo?” _ a still distorted but not longer unintelligible voice called out, breaking their silent standoff. 

“It’s... fine,” Madara gritted out. “I said it’s fine, Hashirama! I just... remembered something I had forgotten.” 

The other man laughed, the still blurred outline of his shoulder shaking. Indra observed him more closely, leaning in. He was excessively tall, forcing Indra to tilt his head back to see his face. But his smile resembled Asura’s, and there was similarity in his slant of his eyes as well. 

Well, he was Asura’s descendant, after all. 

_ “Oh? Like the ▅▅? ▅▅▅▅ ▅▅ are so convenient, aren’t they?”  _ Hashirama said, a few words failing to make sense to Indra. He did not know what they referred to.  _ “Or the ▅? That’s dangerous, you know, your house could burn down!” _

“No... it’s not that,” Madara muttered. It was difficult for him not to look at Indra, and he finally resorted to just closing his eyes, reaching up to massage the bridge of his nose with one hand. “Do you think I’m an airhead like you? I wouldn’t make a mistake like that.” 

_ “Come on…”  _ Hashirama made a show of slumping over in gloom. It was only a show, however, and he was still radiating happiness. Now, Indra could read a certain degree of nuance in it. Some worry had been weighing him down but had suddenly changed, for the better. Receiving a good sign, he was relieved... it was a feeling like that. And of course, he was faintly vibrating with curiosity as to why. 

It was easy to read. 

...But come to think of it. Indra hadn’t sensed much from Madara all this time, had he? His presence and later his words were clear enough, but there was no echo of emotion behind it. Or at least not often, not this strongly. It was only the last few times they met that Indra had been able to read any emotion at all. 

Turning to look at him now, Indra could feel his prickling irritation but also his ease at the presence of his friend. No matter how harsh his speech, Madara felt a deep affection toward him. 

Was that why Hashirama was so pleased to be scolded? But the two of them were not ninshu practitioners, so it wasn’t like they could understand each other through their chakra alone. How could they be sure of the feelings behind each other’s words and actions? 

_ “But in any case, I’m so happy you came by. This is your first time coming to my place, isn’t it?”  _ Hashirama quickly went on, both his voice and his chakra all but bouncing.  _ “I’ll show you around, give you the grand tour!” _

Stepping forward, he threw an arm over Madara’s shoulders and began to pull him along without waiting for an answer. Indra drifted more than followed after them, watching. Even Asura had never been so forward with him, too respectful of the difference between older brother and younger brother, senior and junior, and no one else dared to come within arms length at all. It looked cumbersome. But perhaps there was some charm to it — Madara certainly endured it without any ill feeling, and perhaps with even some warmth. 

But. 

“Wrong,” Indra noted. “Not a first visit... but that one is unaware.” 

He could tell that much from the odd fluctuation in Madara’s chakra. It must have been a meaningful visit, to impact him. However, this time Madara managed to ignore him entirely.

“You know, you can just ask me why I came,” he said instead, cutting through Hashirama’s excited explanations about this and that part of the house that Indra couldn’t see. The only things that appeared with even some degree of clarity were a row of bonsai, which radiated a strong yang energy very much like his younger brother’s. 

Hashirama definitely shot his friend some kind of look.  _ “Have you ever heard of smalltalk? It’s this polite thing people do.”  _

“Sounds like something I want no part of,” Madara replied. “I know you’re curious, so just ask.” 

You know, do you? How do you know? Indra still couldn’t understand. 

_ “You got me there,” _ Hashirama admitted.  _ “But I’m also happy to see you. So maybe I just want to talk with my friend for a while first.”  _

Madara scoffed. “Only if you’re ready to talk for two.” 

_ “I can do that!”  _

He really could. Indra didn’t keep track of the subject — something about their village, leading to stories about the various people in it — and he wasn’t sure Madara did either. Just as he’d said, he rarely spoke up, content to simply listen. 

Finally, the two of them lapsed into silence, seated together and looking across what felt like a garden. 

“The reason I came,” Madara said quietly without turning to his friend, “is to ask you something. It’s something you understand better than me... After all, you have always been able to make bonds with others easily.” 

“Bonds, huh?” Hashirama echoed. Although he also spoke with a certain softness, his voice had become clearer, as had his features. Was it a matter of becoming accustomed to him? Or connecting better by spending a certain amount of time nearby? Or... Indra didn’t know, since he had not tried to approach a living human for a long time. Smiling, Hashirama glanced at the other man. “Did you meet someone? Is it—” 

“Don’t even go there. It’s not what you’re thinking,” Madara quickly cut him off. 

“But you did meet someone!” He beamed. “That’s great!”

Madara sighed. 

Although he gave a short laugh, Hashirama didn’t press any further. “Bonds, huh,” he repeated. “There are all kinds of bonds in life. Some we are born to, like family, some that come from sharing a common purpose, like a clan or alliance. Some that form slowly by spending time together... and some that seem to appear in an instance, with just one glance.” 

Bonds you are born to — like Asura. But in the end, the two of them hadn’t been able to understand each other. 

Bonds from a common purpose… it should have been their father’s ninshu school, sharing a purpose of advancing the Sage’s teachings. But it hadn’t been like that. It hadn’t felt like they were walking the same road at all, for all that they participated in the same lessons. ...Except those two. That had indeed been a bond, hadn’t it? Or at least enough of one to break. They had wanted him to grow stronger, so he had, even if it took their deaths to do it. 

Asura hadn’t seen it that way, hadn’t seen the reason in it, the next time they confronted each other after Indra had left the school and the village. They had found the bodies where Indra had laid them down respectfully, and… 

Even their first battle hadn’t put that kind of look in Asura’s eyes — as if he didn’t even recognize his brother. 

That bond… had also been severed, even though Indra wasn’t sure when. 

He was pulled out of his thoughts when Hashirama unexpectedly elbowed Madara, dropping his serious demeanor again. “Was it like that for you?” he asked. “Love at first sight? It was, right?” 

“No,” Madara replied coldly. “I’m telling you, it’s not what you’re thinking.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with it, you know. Sometimes it’s just like that. Not necessarily love, but… you look at someone, and you just  _ know. _ You can feel it, like a thread tying around your heart — this person is special,” Hashirama insisted. He nodded to himself with a smile, recalling some memory. “It’s like a sign from the heavens.” 

“I don’t care about your love life, Hashirama,” Madara deadpanned. 

“No, it’s not that—” 

“Regardless, that’s not what I meant to ask you,” Madara went on, pointedly ignoring his friend’s protests in petty turnabout revenge. “What I meant was… Do you think bonds are necessary? That power without bonds will only bring calamity?” 

“Yes,” Hashirama replied bluntly and without hesitation. 

It was too blunt. Both Madara and the unseen observer Indra stared at him in surprise. 

His lips quirked, as if he wanted to smile, but he remained solemn. “People need bonds. Family, friends, comrades… they are what drive us and give us strength. It’s because of the bond with our,” his voice hitched slightly, “our brothers that we could dream of peace. And it’s because of our bond with each other that this village could be built. It’s because of our bonds with other clans that it will continue to grow. Don’t you think so? Trying to live without any bonds would be… just suffering.” 

Madara tilted his head, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. His expression was difficult to make out. 

“You  _ would _ think that. You’ve always been surrounded by people,” he muttered. “It’s so easy for you, isn’t it?” 

“Well, sometimes it’s easy, sometimes it’s hard. That’s fine too. Bonds are worth fighting for! ...But basically, you’re asking for advice how to get closer to this knock out beauty you met?” Hashirama clarified. 

He immediately yelped and ducked under a wild swing. 

“There is! No! Such thing! Hashirama!!” 

“It’s fine! No need to be embarrassed!” Hashirama insisted, even as he continued quickly sidestepping a series of somewhat halfhearted but far from harmless swipes. “The first thing is to strike up conversation! You can’t just follow them around in the shadows, it’s too one-sided. That’s just being a stalker. But I get it, striking up conversation out of nowhere is hard—” 

“I’m telling you—” 

“—So I usually start off by being a nuisance! The more annoying, the better! No one can ignore you then!” 

“You were doing it ON PURPOSE?! All this time!!” 

“It’s great advice, I guarantee it!” 

It was impossible to tell whether he was being serious or angling to make his friend embarrass himself. Whether from this uncertainty, the admission of his long-standing method, or the unceasing teasing, Madara had reached the limit of his tolerance. There were no more words. With an unintelligible roar of fury, he managed to grab hold of Hashirama’s haori and dragged him into a choke hold. 

The sudden asphyxiation finally put a dent in Hashirama’s loud, boisterous laughter — though not entirely. He slapped at Madara’s arms around his neck without any particular coordination, seemingly unconcerned with the imminent threat of death. 

‘Idiots,’ Indra thought blankly—

_ “——!” _

—Everything suddenly went cold, like being pushed into a mountain stream. 

Something had happened, outside of Indra’s still limited perception, making Madara and Hashirama tense and turn to look in the same directions. Their previously vibrant expressions closed off and the emotions in their chakra flipped — a barely contained cold sharpness in Madara and an almost stomach-twisting dismay in Hashirama. 

The change was abrupt enough to make Indra flinch. Instinctively, he looked in the same direction as them. He thought there might have been someone standing there, a general outline of a person with a rather cool, controlled sort of presence that was especially difficult to read, like a blank space. 

“Tobirama,” Hashirama said. His smile was strained and awkward. “Hi! I didn’t expect you home yet.” 

Stepping back, Madara turned away quickly. His expression was blank, even as he tilted his chin down to conceal it. There was a cold sort of nothingness in his chakra as well, or at least, something that Indra had no way to understand. 

There was the faintest ripple to indicate that this unknown ‘Tobirama’ was speaking, and Hashirama replied something in a disjointed, awkward way, but Indra ignored them both. 

What was that? 

Reading the fluctuations of a person’s chakra didn’t mean understanding them or knowing their thoughts and reasons. It was too limited. It wasn’t enough. ...It was frustrating. 

However, there was nothing else Indra could do, so he ‘watched’ closely. There was no clearly discernible emotion in Madara’s presence, but it was a different sort of blankness than what had permeated his chakra when they first met. Not a distant, gray indifference that Indra knew well in himself, but something freezing and so cold it would burn on contact, would strip the skin off you. 

And beneath that thousand year glacier was something pitch black. 

It should have been frozen still, but ever so slowly, it stirred. 

Something like a whisper… It was familiar, but too unclear for Indra to determine from  _ where. _

But even so, he knew he didn’t like it. Logic and reason didn’t matter. Instinctively, deep in his gut, he felt a narrow-eyed suspicion and the edge of revulsion at just the faintest hint of this strange thing. 

What  _ was  _ that? 

Indra took a sharp, quick step toward Madara, his eyes piercing into the deep black in his shadow. His power flared, abrupt and strong enough to make Madara jump in surprise and snap around to look at him. Whatever he had been thinking and feeling was swept away, and the unclear darkness vanished as well, before Indra could finally pin it down. 

“Tsk,” he clicked his tongue in consternation, before looking up at Madara, who was staring at him with a tense, wooden expression. 

A long moment, then Madara palmed his face. 

“I’m leaving,” he muttered, whether to Indra or Hashirama or the world at large. 

“Ah? W, wait, you don’t have to go...” Hashirama tried to protest, only for something to draw his attention away again. In his moment of distraction, Madara slipped away. 

Indra glanced over at him and then the white spot that was probably another person. With Madara departing, everything was growing even more blurred and disconnected. Even Hashirama’s face was becoming only an impression of shadow and hue. The tangle of his feelings was all but incomprehensible. 

How annoying. It was… a feeling deeper than just frustration at something he couldn’t understand. He didn’t like it. He wanted… what, he also didn’t know. But this, this mattered, more than anything in too many centuries to count. 

Closing his eyes, Indra let himself fade away. 

~.~

Madara did not come to the Uchiha shrine again. Settling down in his own home, he sank into meditation and... called for an audience, his chakra pulsing loud and unmistakable, like a ringing bell. It was hard to say whether he was doing it intentionally or if it was simply the strength of his intention, but Indra could hardly ignore it. 

No one had dared to demand his presence in so long, not since their father. It was really quite some temerity on Madara’s part. However, he wasn’t sure whether he disapproved or not. 

“Honored ancestor,” Madara said, sensing Indra’s presence without opening his eyes. His tone was even and outwardly controlled, but there was an undercurrent of coldness that bordered on disrespect — a sharp change from before. “I did not realize you could leave the shrine... I’ve been discourteous.” 

“This one is no bound ghost,” Indra confirmed. “Familiarity serves as anchor, the ancient stone.” 

After all this time, Madara had become somewhat accustomed to his way of speaking. Even without prompting, he paused to consider the unsaid points with a familiar contemplative expression. 

“Then the reason you appeared was not because of the stone tablet,” he said. “And the reason you followed me was...” 

“Observation,” Indra said it directly, “of you.”

Madara’s eyebrows twitched, but he otherwise managed to keep his expression even. His chakra also twitched, with something that was unclear and tangled but at least a little pleased. Well, he still thought Indra was some kind of wise elder — which he technically was, as much as anyone, but... 

“...Of me, is it?” he echoed. “Then, I will do my utmost to live up to your expectations, honored ancestor.” 

“Indra. This one’s true name is Indra.” 

“...Indra-sama,” Madara repeated. He let out a low breath. “If even you have appeared to observe, then my path is not mistaken — this is proof that I must keep searching. Rest assured. I will find the answers we both seek.” 

“Until that time, I will walk with you,” Indra agreed. 

Searching for the same answers on the same path... it was not a feeling he knew. But it wasn’t bad. 

~.~


	8. Sannin apprentice mixup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No clear timeline on this, since it would obviously require a number of backstory changes for everyone to be around at this point in time. I haven’t really written out what might have caused it, but as a general estimate: 
> 
> 1) Tsunade wasn’t on the mission where Dan died, so she’s jaded about Konoha but didn’t directly leave and doesn’t have a phobia of blood,   
> 2) Minato wasn’t named Yondaime before the Kyuubi attack, leading to Orochimaru never quite leaving afterwards since he was never put off the table as a candidate,   
> 3) since Kushina’s husband wasn’t the bossman, matters for her pregnancy were handled differently, and while the attack still happened, Minato didn’t die.

It had been a long time since the Sannin had been in one room. Years, in fact — since the war. No, a war back, even. 

Realizing that they had seen three wars in their lifetime was tiring. 

Sarutobi regarded them from behind his desk and over his pipe, silently taking a long slow drag and letting the smoke fill his lungs. He was tired, and he thought he could see the same in his students, to various extents. It was hard to believe they were already fifty. None of them looked it, except perhaps Jiraiya, but his larger than life personality made him seem like a far younger man. 

Their team had grown apart, but at the very least, they still respected him enough not to fidget too obviously or demand answers when summoned before him with such seriousness. 

Finally, he knew he had stalled enough. Putting aside his pipe, he sat forward and folded his hands atop the desk, for once cleared of all work — except for three thin folders. 

“You must be wondering why I have called you here,” the Sandaime said. “I have missions for each of you, which are of the utmost importance.” Reaching over, he fanned the three folders out between them and him. “I am giving each of you a student.” 

“Gh,” Jiraiya let out a vague sound but swallowed his protests when Sarutobi glanced at him. 

“I already have a student,” Tsunade pointed coolly. 

“I as well,” Oorochimaru added. 

“Shizune and Anko are both adults now,” Sarutobi said dryly, seeing easily through their attempts to wiggle out of the responsibility. “I realize you are busy with your other duties, but I feel that raising the next generation is one of the most important roles we can take on. Being your teacher is still my greatest contribution to the village, and the one that has brought me much pride and joy.” He paused. “However, I won’t stop you from declining, if that is your decision.” 

All three of them looked at him for a long moment, feeling the weight and unspoken meaning behind his words. They were fine shinobi. They could read underneath the underneath. 

No one declined. 

With a put-upon sigh, Tsunade reached out and picked up the folder in front of her, prompting the other two to do the same. 

They flipped them open in almost perfect sync. They reacted to the contents in almost perfect sync as well. He didn’t smile at the poorly concealed twitches in their expressions, but even after all these years, watching these three really did still fill Sarutobi with warmth and joy. 

“...Sensei, I think you got the order wrong,” Jiraiya said what they were thinking. 

“No, it’s correct,” Sarutobi assured them. Pointing to each of them in turn, from left to right, “Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke, Haruno Sakura.” 

From left to right, Orochimaru, Tsunade, Jiraiya. 

The children were three graduates of the latest Academy class. Normally, they would have formed a three-man team under a jounin sensei, but Sarutobi had a different plan, and these young genin were unfortunate the pawns in it. Normally, apprenticing under one of the Sannin was an amazing opportunity, of course. But for these children, their growth and potential could very well end up undercut. The issue was...

These pairs were a complete mismatch. 

“You have one year to train them as you see fit,” he went on, while his students were still stunned speechless. “Then, at next year’s summer Chuunin Exams, they will participate as a team. I look forward to seeing what you can make of them.” 

Now, the question was how well Sarutobi’s students could understand the nature of the task he’d given them — and  _ why. _

~.~

“It’s politics,” Tsunade said bitterly, downing a cup of sake. 

“Is that it?” Shizune wondered, her eyebrows climbing. She didn’t try to protest this time and only poured Tsunade another cup. 

She was of course the one Tsunade turned to complain to about this awful new turn in her life, and she had already expressed her deep confusion at, frankly, wasting her master’s time on a kid who could never inherit her legacy. 

Wouldn’t it have been far wiser to find Tsunade a young potential to nurture? She had so much to pass on, so many skills and so much knowledge that Shizune knew she herself had fallen short of properly acquiring. A true disciple that could inherit everything that Tsunade had to offer...

It was certainly not Uchiha Sasuke. No matter how lauded he was as a budding talent, his chakra control was only passable and he didn’t have any inclination toward book learning necessary for advancement of medical techniques. And most of all, he had no desire to heal, no understanding of its importance. 

“Oh yeah, it’s politics,” Tsunade confirmed. “Assigning the last Uchiha to a Senju? What else could it be? Our two great founding clans, down to their last generation.” She snorted, swirling the clear alcohol in her cup. “As for what they expect me to do… Teach him to be a good loyal Konoha nin, I suppose is the main point. Those rumors about the Uchiha never did die down. Who better to indoctrinate him than a Senju? On that front, I’m probably supposed to keep an eye on him too. Ridiculous!” 

She drank again and slammed the cup back onto the table. 

Tsunade had never had an Uchiha teammate. That might not have seemed like much on the surface, but she knew. She’d worked with every other major clan over the course of her shinobi career and most of the smaller ones. To  _ never _ be in the field with an Uchiha? There had to be a reason. 

Her family, back when they still existed, or those that had once been part of the power bloc centered on the Senju, before they splintered with her clan’s collapse. Maybe even just some dogmatic adherents who inherited some ridiculous notions from their clan elders that couldn’t let go of the warring clan days. Konoha was full of power struggles and connections, hidden and open. 

Probably, it was a combination of multiple parties pushing their own agendas, momentarily overlapping into this ridiculous result. 

Tsunade wasn’t interested in tracking it down to the root, in any case. She had spent the last two decades distancing herself from those parts of Konoha, as well as from the field. The only thing that mattered to her was the hospital. There, she would allow no agendas to compromise the care offered to any who entered its doors. 

For the next year, she’d have to include Uchiha Sasuke in that. 

“Then, what are you going to do, Tsunade-sama?” Shizune wondered, pouring her sake again. 

“What can I do? I’ll teach him,” Tsunade said. “He’s my responsibility until he makes chuunin, so I’ll make sure he will.” 

“Are you going to teach him… medical ninjutsu…?” Even as she said it, Shizune’s face scrunched up disbelief. 

“Hah!” Tsunade gave a short, sharp bark of laughter. “If I trained him as a medic, he wouldn’t make chuunin in ten years!” 

Shizune stifled an inappropriate snort of amusement. “Tsunade-sama, that’s hardly fair,” she said mildly, fighting a smile. “I have full confidence in you. I’m certain you could get him to muster in five years.” 

Their small exchange lifted Tsunade’s sour mood, as Shizune so often had over the years. This girl — a grown woman now — had been her only anchor and the only real bright spot in a village Tsunade could no longer love. Not only as Dan’s niece, but as her own apprentice. Even if Shizune did not have the raw talent to become a legend in her own right, Tsunade did not consider a single moment spent teaching her to be wasted. It was as Sarutobi had said — a student was their master’s greatest pride and joy. 

...A real student, one selected by the master and who chose the master in return. 

Uchiha Sasuke was not that. He was Tsunade’s responsibility for one year, not a lifetime. She would give him the foundation of a chuunin, but nothing more. The destructive path she could see he would travel was not hers to correct. The bad habits and twisted ways of thinking he had already started falling into were not up to her to beat out of him. This was just a temporary match made by politics. 

Perhaps if he had been a different kind of kid… But Tsunade had never had an Uchiha teammate or friend. There was no one he resembled to her and no connection between them. 

“No, I can’t imagine he cares about anything except combat,” she said. “So that’s what I’ll teach him — how to take a hit and keep going, and how to hit back even harder.” She smirked. “I’m not going to turn down a convenient punching bag.”

Chakra control and taijutsu were skills that benefitted every shinobi, and Tsunade had both par excellence. They would be a solid basis for whatever Sasuke chose to focus on afterwards. If they were lucky, they’d save his life. 

That was all she could hope for. 

~.~

“It’s a test,” Orochimaru muttered to himself. 

Of course it was. Their sensei was always testing them, and especially testing Orochimaru. Because where Tsunade and Jiraiya could be trusted, Orochimaru was always being watched, being judged. 

Not that their sensei was wrong. Orochimaru was already quite far from someone deserving trust or even acceptable in Konoha. If Sarutobi knew — and was forced to acknowledge, rather than looking away and pretending he couldn’t guess the truth — everything Orochimaru had done, there was no doubt that being stripped of all power and put under constant surveillance would be the mildest punishment he could receive. Death was more likely, to be frank. 

Haaah… If Sarutobi had assigned Orochimaru the Uchiha boy, he might have finally taken the plunge, so to say, and cut ties with Konoha completely. For the Sharingan, even finally throwing away the last lingering chance of becoming Yondaime would have been worth it. 

It wasn’t like he had much expectation of receiving the position any longer. He understood now that he and Konoha were simply anathema to each other. 

But no. Instead he had been handed Namikaze’s jinchuuriki spawn. A deadlast loser with no worthwhile skills or potential. 

And, worst of all, there was nothing Orochimaru could do to even draw out the slim possibility of some useful data from him. After all, Sarutobi would be watching like a hawk. The slightest out of the ordinary occurrence around the Uzumaki brat, and Orochimaru would be immediately suspected. Whether anything could be proven or not, it would be…  _ annoying _ to deal with. 

Worse, not only could he not make use of the boy, Orochimaru would have to teach him something at least, or else his lack of effort would look suspicious too. 

Really, seals and bijuu were far more up Jiraiya’s alley. 

Maybe he could dump the kid in the Forest of Death and let him fight it out with the animals there. That would certainly get him up to scratch in a hurry. 

Or maybe he could get Anko to take the brunt of the work. She had unfortunately grown out of her childhood adoration of her sensei and, as she grew older — and, honestly, wiser — a certain unease around him crept in, but she was still the kind of sadist who would enjoy the chance to make a brat suffer. 

...Both? 

Both was good. 

~.~

“Because it’s a test, and I don’t want to pass,” Jiraiya said bluntly. 

The girl, Sakura, blinked at him without understanding, traces of her earlier indignation still in her expression. Jiraiya didn’t really need to explain it to her. He had given her an order and, if she didn’t follow it, that was her own problem. However… he was getting soft in his old age, he supposed. She was just a kid, and she deserved to know why she was being used as a pawn. 

He sighed and settled down more comfortably, regretfully turning away from the sight of the hot spring in the distance to give the girl his full attention. 

“Did you hear that you’re not the only one in your class getting an apprenticeship?” he asked first. 

“Um! Yes! I heard that Sasuke-kun also…” she stammered, blushing and wiggling. 

Genius pretty boys, Jiraiya thought, mentally rolling his eyes. “Right. There’s your Sasuke-kun, and there’s the Uzumaki kid. Instead of being a three man team, you got sent into apprenticeship with us, the Sannin. You know who we are?” he went on. 

“Yes! You’re—” 

“You don’t need to tell me, I know,” he said dryly. “So the three of us got assigned apprentices by our sensei. That’s the Hokage. And his orders were that we train you for a year, after which you’ll take Chuunin Exams together. Now, what do you think of that?” 

To her credit, the girl pursed her lips and didn’t respond immediately. Pinching her chin, she thought it over with almost comical seriousness. 

“I heard…” she said slowly, “that Sasuke-kun is going to be Tsunade-sama’s apprentice. I think Tsunade-sams is amazing. But…” 

“But if it was just about assigning us students, she’d take you, I’d take the Uzumaki kid, and that bastard Orochi would take your Sasuke-kun,” Jiraiya finished the thought. He didn’t keep going just yet. She wasn’t a very cute kid, but it had been a while since he could watch such a small thing struggle to figure something out on their own. 

The girl nodded slowly. “Then, there’s another reason,” she concluded. Mentally, she combed over the scant information she had. “We’re going to take Chuunin Exams in one year… It’s already decided that it’ll be then, and that we’ll do it together. So… it’s a competition…?” 

“Not bad,” Jiraiya said. “Good catch on that. If it’s just training you, why not let us send you to the next exam, or the winter one? There’s always some teams that need a third. So that’s obviously fishy. But you’re not quite right. You can’t guess this part with what you’ve got, so I’ll just tell you. It’s not quite that we’re being compared to each other. It’s just that in one year, Sensei is going to see how far we got with you.” 

“So Hokage-sama is testing you?” Sakura said, both her tone and expression letting slip a barely there edge of irritation. Not that Jiraiya was being tested by his old teacher, of course, but that she was being used as a test. 

“Right-o! How far you three come and also how we taught you. It’s a big test. And the reason… Well, I better not tell you,” Jiraiya decided. 

It was to decide who would become the Yondaime Hokage. 

Sarutobi had wanted to retire after the last war. He had been old, he had been tired, he had kept the village going for decades. It was his time. He had even picked out a candidate, someone far better than the three of them could hope to be. He had only been waiting for the best chance to announce it. 

But then, the Kyuubi happened. 

Yes, the Kyuubi… everything changed because of that. 

The village was unstable, weakened and under threat. Minato was different, half the man he used to be. So Sarutobi had kept the hat. 

Then the Hyuuga affair took place. And by then tensions with the Uchiha clan were rising. One thing after another, dragging out for years, all while there was no clear successor to be found. 

It seemed that their old sensei had finally had enough. 

He’d said it himself: Raising the next generation is one of the most important roles in the village. Being their teacher was his greatest contribution to the village, above all others. Implicitly: to be a good master took qualifications beyond even being Hokage. 

In other words, the one who could teach best would be the best successor. 

That would absolutely not be Jiraiya. Like hell he’d become Hokage. 

He hadn’t wanted to refuse directly, right there in the Sandaime’s office. Tsunade and Orochimaru would nag, and worse, they might have potentially taken it as an opening to refuse as well. And then, Sarutobi-sensei would have come up with some other scheme… Too much trouble. Better to accept it and just fail on purpose. 

“Wha—?! Why can’t you tell me?” Sakura demanded, her voice rising to a furious pitch. 

Jiraiya really did roll his eyes. “Listen, you’re better off not knowing this kind of thing,” he said. “It’s adult business. The main point is that I’m not interested in passing, so I’m not going to teach you. But!” he said quickly and loudly before she could do more than let her mouth drop open is shock and dismay. “BUT! I’m not gonna leave you high and dry. So like I said, head to the hospital and get yourself enrolled in their training. With my recommendation, they won’t turn you away. This way, everyone gets what they want, see?”

She glared at him on principle, lips pressed together in a furious line, but there wasn’t really anything she could say. 

It was indeed win-win, after all. 

Jiraiya knew that she had no specialty in the Academy, no clan or family background worth noting, and no mentor aside from supposedly him. Medic nin were not always regarded with the respect they deserved, but it was one of the steadiest and most reliable professions in the village. There was nothing for her to object to, except being pushed around without any say — but that’s just how it was when you were kid and also when you were too weak to make anyone listen. 

Call it a life lesson, free of charge. 

“Fine,” she finally decided, letting out a deep, heavy huff. “I’ll go.” 

Turning on her heel, she was about to depart — only to stop unexpectedly and turn back. This time, there was a cutesy smile on her face, all but radiating girlish charm. Clasping her hands, she bowed deeply, her pink hair flying. 

“Thank you so much for your wisdom and support, Jiraiya-sama!” she trilled, making Jiraiya raise an eyebrow. “I’ll do my best to become a credit to your teaching and show my strength next year!” 

“Wh—” 

Without waiting for a reply, she flounced off. Jiraiya stared after, taken a bit off guard. 

So, she had that kind of vindictive personality, huh? He chuckled. It reminded him a bit of Tsunade, but... it didn’t really matter. Sarutobi wouldn’t be fooled by something like that. Their sensei would understand Jiraiya’s meaning even without him saying anything — that he was forfeiting. 

It was for the best. 

With his “apprentice” thus settled, Jiraiya was free to turn back to his research. However, for once, his mind was far from the relaxing beauties of the hot spring. 

Because.... there was still that kid. Leaving him with Orochimaru, Sarutobi was playing with fire. And perhaps the Professor was willing to take the risk, for Konoha. But Jiraiya wondered if the father would be so inclined. 

Perhaps this would finally drive ‘him’ to come home. 

How long had it been anyway? Those children were twelve, right? 

“Twelve years...” Jiraiya muttered. “Isn’t it time to move on, Minato?” 

Tsunade and Orochimaru had taken one apprentice each, and those two girls had both grown well. But Jiraiya… Jiraiya had trained two teams of three. Of those six, only one was still alive, and even for him... the brilliant path ahead of him had been irrevocably broken. 

The truth was, he hardly needed to throw the match. No matter how you looked at it... as a teacher, he had always been a failure anyway. 

~.~

‘Five days,’ Sarutobi thought to himself. ‘No, it’s still before midnight... Four days. Not bad.’ 

It seemed Jiraiya hadn’t bothered tipping him off, and for a minor internal matter like this, no matter how gossip-worthy, to receive news and return from an unknown location outside the country in just four days was indeed not bad at all. 

Of course, it was only to be expected. Namikaze Minato had always been prodigious. 

How unfortunate that the loss of his wife had gutted his spirit. 

It hadn’t been a complete loss, for what minor comfort that offered. Minato hadn’t been so overcome by grief that he’d completely broken ties or outright turned on the village. His work was still extremely valuable — just the intelligence on Iwa’s movements, despite not being the focus of his search, could save the village countless lives, to say nothing of the truly troubling, unsettling hints he had uncovered of something much, much deeper. However, it was all far from what Minato could have been. 

The man that appeared in the Hokage’s office without any warning wore completely nondescript clothing, beneath a swathing dark cloak, and there was no sign of his headband. With his hood up, he had no resemblance to a Konoha nin at all, making it unlikely he’d entered the village through any official means. But to expect the gate guards or the sensor team to detect him would have been impossible to begin with. 

“Welcome back,” Sarutobi greeted him calmly. 

“Sandaime-sama,” Minato replied, still polite if far more terse than he had once been. 

It was already late night, the gibbon moon high in the sky, and Sarutobi felt tired down to his bones. He had wanted to retire a decade and a half ago. Playing around... he just didn’t have the patience for it. 

“I doubt you have something urgent to report, so why don’t we discuss why you’re really here?” he said bluntly, setting aside his pipe and steepling his hands. “You are, after all, still his father, so you have a certain right to raise an objection to my decision.” 

Minato’s lips thinned, something about Sarutobi’s words irritating him. Perhaps it was the dismissal of any attempts at hiding his real purpose in returning. Some people reacted poorly to that. Perhaps it was the perceived dig at his position as Naruto’s father and his lack of action on those responsibilities. Sarutobi did not actually have such an intent, but guilty minds often saw what they feared. Perhaps it was because he knew that his “certain right” to object did not extend to actually refusing the Hokage’s decision. 

Whichever it was, Minato didn’t pursue the subject. “Orochimaru is dangerous. You are aware of this,” he said instead. “He is almost certainly…” 

“I am aware,” Sarutobi agreed, feeling inexplicably more tired. 

Things had slipped through, over the years. Most prominently, that awful laboratory for Mokuton experiments and the sixty children who had been victims. There had been other similar finds as well — abandoned testing sites, scrolls of experiments or results, even… individuals, or what remained of them, who had undergone a variety of treatments. 

  
Experimentation on humans was not Sarutobi’s expertise, but he was the Professor. He could see the signs of a single hand in all of them. A certain way of thinking, a particular approach or method, all extremely familiar. 

But always, always unidentified. Nothing concrete. Just a hunch. 

This constantly tottering balancing act of suspicion but not quite enough evidence to move against such a valuable shinobi could not last forever, of course. Sarutobi knew that. 

Someday — someday soon — something would slip. Or else Orochimaru would lose interest in maintaining that balance. 

And then... 

“With all due respect, Sandaime-sama, placing a child in the middle of that is reckless,” Minato said sharply. 

The dissatisfaction in his tone and expression bordered on disrespect, but Sarutobi only noted it calmly. It was the most emotion he had seen from Mination since Kushina’s passing, and that was... not a negative factor. “It is necessary to give Orochimaru a disciple, since Tsunade and Jiraiya have also received one,” he said. “In the current political situation, treating any of them with what could be interpreted as favor or disfavor will worsen the divide between the factions supporting them. I must give a reason for my final choice, even if it is an excuse.” 

Minato’s expression smoothed out as he considered the meaning of the Hokage’s words. Even as removed from village politics as he had been the recent years and with only a few fragments of information, he understood quickly. His sharp blue gaze flicked to the Sandaime quickly. 

“Then you are finally...” he started to say, before cutting himself off. There was no need to confirm it. And, in truth, it didn’t change the real reason he had come. Looking away, Minato admitted far more quietly, “But even so... why does it have to be Naruto?” 

“He is the best choice,” Sarutobi said. 

He considered explaining in detail — that an ordinary genin with no background would be too expendable, and Orochimaru might be careless with their lives, but the child of a clan might present too much interest and give him reason to take the risk of acquiring them despite the complications their clan would bring him. However, Orochimaru had never had an interest in bijuu, and Minato was a force likely to make him pause, beyond even the largest clans. 

That last part... Sarutobi smiled and said lightly, “After all, Naruto-kun has a father.” 

Minato jumped, but he couldn’t deny it, not when he had come rushing over like this. 

“I have responsibilities outside the village,” he said instead. 

He had an obsession outside the village, to be more accurate, but Sarutobi did not say that. “Making your presence here public would create complications, this is true,” he admitted. “Then how about this? Those three will take the chuunin exam together next summer, but just placing them together after they train apart for a year would hamper their teamwork. I can arrange regular joint trainings for them under the jounin who will act as their sponsor in the exam. Perhaps weekly? With that level of scrutiny, it will be immediately obvious if something is wrong.” 

The Sandaime had already planned to implement this, but bringing it up like this made it appear like a compromise. Minato should have also been aware of this, of course, and perhaps he was. Emotion made a mess of the smartest people, however. 

“...Do you have someone in mind?” Minato asked cautiously. 

“Anyone without a team of their own would be fine,” Sarutobi said with well practiced nonchalance. “But it will be a benefit to their reputation no matter the outcome, to be linked to the Sannin’s apprentices. Someone among the younger generation would be best… Kakashi would be the most obvious choice, since he failed yet another genin team this year.” The last part he added in a rather dry tone. 

“Kakashi… He understands the value of teamwork,” Minato agreed. “I know he uses the bell test on the new teams. And... he would certainly never allow any harm to come to his comrades or subordinates.” 

“Finally, a team he can’t wiggle out of,” Sarutobi muttered. “I will arrange it.” 

Some of the tension dropped from Minato’s shoulders, and his face even took on the faint shadow of a smile. “That’s good. ...Thank you for your indulgence, Sandaime-sama, and I apologize for the sudden intrusion,” he said. 

“Since you’re here, submit a report… tomorrow,” Sarutobi said, waving him away. 

“Understood.” With a bow, Minato vanished in a shunshin. 

Reaching into a drawer, the Hokage pulled out a summons for Hatake Kakashi he had filled out ahead of time. It would go out that night, meaning Kakashi himself would drop by at some point in the afternoon. And then in the evening, he would most likely receive a visit from his old jounin sensei, if Sarutobi’s predictions came through. 

It had been a long time since Minato interacted with his last surviving student, and the awkwardness of that meeting was bound to be high. However, Sarutobi was quite certain that the situation was not one that Minato would be able to leave just like that, without prodding at it a little more. 

It had gotten under his skin, after all, drawing a reaction. He wouldn’t be able to let it go, not now and not for the rest of the year. Ninja were terrible at leaving things to others, once they became involved. 

One meeting now… given Minato’s nature, another in a month, if not less — “just to check” was what he’d tell himself. And, if things went according to plan, he would finally begin returning to the village with some regularity. Expecting him to interact with his son was likely a bridge too far, but if Minato could at least strengthen his bond with Kakashi… 

That was certainly not a benefit the Sandaime would turn down. It would also be a convenient opening, if some other opportunity presented itself. Losing a shinobi like Minato to a secretive revenge quest was such a waste, after all. 

Now, all the pieces were set. 

And in one year, the future of Konoha would be decided. 

~.~


	9. NaruHina, childhood friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually started this before the manga ended. Of course, the ending and aftermath greatly soured me on NaruHina by association, so I revised the outline and put together a second half mostly just wanted to get it out of my drafts. Apologies if the quality suffered as a result.

~.~

It was the second day of Academy, and Hyuuga Hinata was nervous.

She was even more nervous than on the first day. The reason for simple — on this day, she had a special mission, self-assigned, but no less important for that. So far, that mission had gone well — in preparation, Hinata had gotten up early to arrange a special bento, large enough for two people, to take with her, and it was all set to be given to her target — but now that it was getting close, she was beginning to feel the press of nerves. 

By the time their class was let out for lunch, Hinata was all but utterly frozen in her seat. Her classmates, excited rather than terrified, rushed out before Hinata worked up the courage to even turn to look at her target. 

M-maybe she should just leave it until after class? Then she could catch him on the way home… 

No! Hinata thought, shaking her head sharply. She couldn’t wimp out now. She had to do this!

Hugging the massive bento to her chest, Hinata tiptoed out of the classroom and into the yard, where her classmates had already broken off into little groups. 

Except for one. A boy with bright blond hair was looking around the happy little cliques with an expression that perfectly expressed Hinata’s feelings — loneliness, longing, uncertainty, and a small fear at the thought of the rejection that was sure to come. 

Unlike Hinata, the boy didn’t cower away and hide. Raising his chin and squaring his shoulders, he took a step toward the nearest group. 

She was going to miss her chance!

As always, Hinata's throat closed off with nervousness, but this time her desperation was stronger than her fear — her feet stumbled forward and her hand snapped out, snatching the edge of the boy’s T-shirt.

Feeling the tug, he turned slowly to blink at her in surprise. 

“A-ah… um…” Hinata managed. She held up the bento with shaking hands. 

Fortunately, that was enough. 

“Oh, you wanna eat lunch together?” he asked loudly and energetically. Truthfully, it was more out of forced optimism than any real hope. But to his surprise, the girl didn’t yell at him or protest at all. The opposite — she gave the tiniest nod. His smile widened, impossibly. “Great! By the way, I’m Naruto! Uzumaki Naruto!” 

~.~

The third day of Academy was easier. Hinata brought another lunch, and this time Naruto came up to her himself. She even managed to stutter out a greeting, though she couldn’t say anything else the entire time they were eating together. 

The fourth day was even easier, a little. So was the fifth, and the sixth, and every day after. Every time Hinata didn’t reject his presence, Naruto got a little more comfortable with her. He started sitting next to her in class, and saying hello if they arrived at the same time in the morning. Eventually, Hinata started saying it back and even putting in a word here and there. 

She also insisted on going to Academy alone, since she was a big girl now. Her father had nodded curtly at her request, which was more approval than Hinata could remember receiving in years. He didn’t know Hinata wasn’t asking out of any budding independence, but rather because she knew she’d be forbidden from speaking with Naruto if her family found out about their... friendship. 

A friend, Hinata stopped and thought sometimes, completely stunned. She had a friend. 

She felt like she must be dreaming. Like she was going to burst with happiness. 

So naturally, it couldn’t last. 

~.~

“Hinata-chan! Watch, watch!” Naruto yelled, waving his arms wildly — despite the handfuls of rather sharp shuriken he was holding. 

Despite turning bright red with embarrassment, Hinata managed to raise a hand, which flopped in something almost like a wave. 

Sticking out his tongue in concentration, Naruto jumped in a fairly acrobatic flip and flung his shuriken at the practice post. He had intended something like Sasuke’s earlier show of shuriken-jutsu, but Naruto’s projectiles almost all went wide, scattering around the training field. The students on either side of the post screamed and flung themselves out of the way. 

Iruke gritted his teeth, biting back the reprimand he would have given to any other student. “Just… get back in line,” he ordered finally. 

Naruto’s expression twisted for a moment, as it always did when their teacher ignored him or treated him differently, but he quickly forced back his usual smile. 

“Heheh, oops,” Naruto chuckled, rubbing the back of his head as he hurried to stand beside Hinata again. He had wanted to show her how cool he was, but as always, he just messed up. Out of the corner of his eyes, Naruto snuck a glance at the girl, but she was looking down again, twiddling her fingers. 

Naruto always messed up, he knew that even if he didn’t acknowledge it, but somehow messing up in front of Hinata was different — worse. For the rest of the afternoon, Naruto was unusually silent, pensive and brooding. It was, he finally realized, because he was scared. What if Hinata realized whatever it was that everyone else knew? What if she didn’t want to have lunch with him, or sit with him, or smile at him anymore? 

Lost in his increasingly uneasy thoughts, Naruto missed the worried glances Hinata darted toward him. Even when classes let out, she ended up trailing uncertainly after him. She wanted to say something, but like always the words just wouldn’t come. 

“Ah… um…” she finally stammered out, hoping against hope that it would be like that second day of class, when Naruto was strong and brave enough for both of them. 

Her heart lifted as Naruto glanced back, finally noticing Hinata’s presence. But he didn’t break out into his usual bright grin. “Hinata-chan…” Naruto said slowly, swallowing. He reached out, grasping her hand — Hinata turned red, but she couldn’t imagine looking away in that moment. “Hinata-chan, we’re friends, right? Let’s stay friends forever! ...Please...” 

The smile he gave her then was more like an overcast day, compared to his usual sunshine. 

Maybe, Hinata realized suddenly, it was hard for Naruto to be strong, too. That was why this time, she had to do her part. 

“...Yes,” she began to say, in barely more than a whisper. “Let’s…”

“Hinata-sama!” 

The loud, angry call made them both flinch. Hinata turned to see Kou striding toward them, his expression forbidding as only a Hyuuga could manage. There was no doubt — he had seen them. And he did not approve. 

Naruto barely had time to flinch under Kou’s glare — those same eyes — before the older Hyuuga snatched Hinata by the hand and dragged her away. “Hinata-sama,” Kou gritted out, the veins around his eyes pulsing as he struggled not to activate his Byakugan, “we will be returning to the compound immediately.” 

The innocuous words were like a death sentence. 

They would return home, and her father would be informed of this. 

As she was dragged away, Hinata caught one last glimpse of Naruto, still standing by the Academy gates. His desolate figure remained in her mind the entire way back. 

~.~

“I see,” Hiashi said, after Kou delivered his report. Sitting on the floor before the Hyuuga head’s desk, Hinata did her best not to squirm under the man’s heavy stare. She almost breathed a sigh of relief when he turned back to the documents he had been working on before they arrived. “Kou, thank you for bringing this to my attention. Hinata, do not interact with that boy again.” 

And that was all. Just like that. He didn’t bother to check her reaction to the order, assuming that it would be obeyed without hesitation or delay. It was something so small to him, like telling her not to wear that red kimono or to walk with more poise. 

Just like that. 

But to Hinata... 

Kou bowed in acknowledgement and moved to rise, but Hinata remained frozen. 

This was her father, the clan head. This was an order. But... But...

‘Hinata-chan, we’re friends, right? Let’s stay friends forever! ...Please...’

“Why?” Hinata whispered, almost as if to herself. 

Hiashi’s sharp gaze pinned her in place immediately. He didn’t need to tell her that it wasn’t her place to question his orders. 

Her hands tightened in her lap. “Why?” Hinata repeated. This was the first time she had ever replied to her father, but it was like she couldn’t stop now that she had started. “Why Naruto-kun? Why does everyone look at him like that? Why do they say those things about him? Why can’t he be my friend?” She didn’t dare to raise her head, her shoulders trembling, but no tears fell onto her clenched hands. 

“Friend? You are a Hyuuga, you are above such things,” Hiashi said. “And you will conduct yourself with the proper decorum… no matter how lacking in ability you may be otherwise.” 

“N… N…” ‘No,’ Hinata wanted to say, but her mouth refused to form that small word. “Naruto-kun... is my friend,” she blurted out instead. “Naruto is my friend…”

It was like a prayer, or maybe a plea. 

Hiashi regarded her for a moment, before turning away once more. “Hinata,” he said, without even looking up, “I will oversee your training tonight. Prepare and meet me at the training rooms.” 

So that’s how it would be, Hinata realized, slumping a little. He wouldn’t bother answering her questions. He would just demonstrate her powerlessness and uselessness with their clan’s Jyuuken. 

“Yes, Father,” Hinata whispered, bowing and slipping out of the room. 

~.~

She did not go to Academy the next day, or the day after. When she finally returned, she didn’t raise her head, even when Naruto called out to her. Curling up on herself, she squeezed into the most isolated corner seat just before the start of class and, when recess came, vanished before he could catch her. At the end of the day, an adult from her clan came to pick her up, glaring at Naruto when he tried to approach. 

It became like that every day. Regardless of how loudly Naruto yelled, or how doggedly he chased after her, Hinata… remained out of reach. 

~.~

“You, Uzumaki.” 

An imperious voice calling out his name made Naruto pause in his meandering walk across Konoha. He turned to look at the man who had addressed him with a suspicious expression. No one ever had anything nice to say to Naruto, except the Hokage and Ichiraku family, and he doubted the prim, traditionally-dressed Hyuuga glaring at him would be any different. 

For his part, Kou struggled to keep the sneer off his face as he looked down at the demon brat. This sort of person, without a doubt, could not be allowed to come so close to Hinata-sama, who was still young and foolish enough not to understand her own positions and to allow herself to be swayed by weak sentiment. 

“What do you want?” Naruto asked sullenly, an edge of hostility creeping into his voice. 

He had seen this guy before, he realized, often accompanying Hinata to and from Academy — and refusing to let Naruto come close. 

“Stay away from Hinata-sama,” Kou ordered. 

It was what Naruto had expected, but that didn’t stop his hackles from rising. “Don’t tell me what to do!” Naruto shot back reflexively. “And Hinata-chan is my friend! I’ll play with her if I want!” 

Kou’s eyes narrowed, the veins beginning to bulge. “Listen here, you little beast,” he hissed. “Hinata-sama is the daughter of the Hyuuga clan head, a member of the main family. Her lineage is flawless and her bloodline pure. She is as far from a dirty little no-name orphan like you as the moon is from the monkey’s grasp. Just being near you is a stain on her reputation. The best you could do for her is not to taint her with your presence, you demon.” 

The sheer, venomous disgust in the Hyuuga’s tone made Naruto recoil, eyes wide. It hurt, so much that Naruto wanted to curl up on himself and back away, but he had never been one to take anything lying down. That hurt turned to anger, and he glared right back. 

“Shut up! What do you know?!” Naruto yelled. “Hinata’s happy to be my friend! I’m a great friend! And I’m going to be Hokage, and then you’ll see!” 

“Hokage? You?” Kou sneered. 

Just for that, Naruto kicked him the shin. As the man instinctively winced and cringed away, Naruto ran for it. 

If his vision was a little blurry, it was because of anger, not tears gathering in his eyes. He didn’t care. He didn’t. As long as Hinata wanted to be his friend, what did some jerk’s opinion matter? He didn’t care at all… 

But the real question was — did she? 

~.~

Iruka had been just about to head home — finally, after finishing up the last of the grading on the latest quiz from his class; their personalities showed through a little too much as usual, Chouji’s all but unreadable from food stains — when the repetitive sound of kunai hitting wood, coming from the training grounds, drew his attention. 

As he headed out onto the training field, he had already begun to mentally compose a lecture, since students weren’t allowed to practice unsupervised, especially with weapons, and Iruka knew that all the other teachers had gone home. But the words died in his throat as he saw just who was throwing kunai at one of the posts. 

‘It’s that boy,’ Iruka thought, his mouth pulling down in a frown. ‘Uzumaki Naruto...’ 

When he started teaching and learned that the Kyuubi host would be in his class, Iruka had been told — if not in those words — to ignore Naruto. Just don’t bother with him, pretend he’s not there, was the advice he received. Don’t invite trouble — and Naruto was nothing but trouble. 

However, he was still one of Iruka’s students, and Iruka took pride in his role as a teacher. To ignore a student breaking the rules wasn’t something he could do. 

...But also... the sight of his small figure practicing alone was really very... familiar. 

“Uzumaki Naruto!” he called out. 

The name felt awkward, and Iruka realized he wasn’t sure if he’d ever called the boy by name before. Certainly, he didn’t address any of his other students in such an unfamiliar way. 

Jumping in surprise, Naruto fumbled the kunai he had been holding. Several dropped to the ground, while the rest Naruto tried to hide behind his back. “I wasn’t doing anything!” he denied futilely. 

“Really? Because it looks to me like you were training — alone, after hours, like you’ve been told not to,” Iruka said, crossing his arms. 

“What’s wrong with that?” Naruto protested. 

“You were told not to,” Iruka repeated. “It’s dangerous and you could hurt yourself. You should always have an adult nearby just in case. Ask your...” 

...Right. 

Normally, students were supposed to ask their parents, their older siblings, or their clanmates. But of course, Naruto didn’t have anyone like that. And the other option was… 

“One of the teachers,” Iruka corrected himself. 

However, the doubtful, rebellious expression on Naruto’s face didn’t change, and the pair stared each other down for a long moment. Iruka had learned to keep an impassive face in front of his students, but even so, he couldn’t help squirming internally. He knew exactly what Naruto was thinking. The Academy staff was professional enough to at least avoid acting out publicly like the villagers tended to, but they would at best ignore any request from this particular student. 

If he insisted on the rules here, the boy would just go off to train somewhere else, still completely unsupervised and even more likely to get hurt, Iruka thought. He shouldn’t get involved, but this was his student. He had a responsibility and… 

...He’d basically already lost, hadn’t he? It was a lost cause. 

Sighing, Iruka admitted defeat. 

“Next time, ask me,” he said. 

Momentarily taken aback, Naruto squinted at him suspiciously. “Are you gonna say no?” he demanded, probably thinking that Iruka planned to mock him. The fact that he suspected an adult like this… Iruka sighed again. 

“I won’t,” he said firmly. “Since you’re one of my students, I’m always happy to see you put in an effort… instead of just goofing off in class.” 

Naruto’s mouth dropped open and he puffed up indignantly at the — completely accurate — accusation. “That’s different!” he protested. “Class is boring! But this is important. I gotta get stronger! ‘Cause I need to prove to those guys that I can be Hinata-chan’s friend!” 

Hinata-chan, Hyuuga Hinata. Two of them had been nearly inseparable at the start of the school year, until those two days when Hinata was absent without warning. Iruka could guess what had happened. A clan the Hyuuga would certainly object to their leader’s daughter getting close to an outsider, but especially to Naruto, of all people. 

Iruka wasn’t sure being “strong” would ever be enough to overcome that, but Naruto would need to become at least an S-rank ninja to even dream of being able to shut down the clan’s objections — not something an Academy student could hope to achieve any time soon. 

It would have been best to tell him to give up. There was no point in letting him get his hopes up. 

Lips twitching, Iruka tried to force the words out. 

He couldn’t. 

Wasn’t it just too pathetic to say something like that to a child? Especially regarding his only friend? And if someone had told Iruka that when he was a kid, would he have listened? 

Of course not. He would have climbed straight over the Hyuuga compound wall and put holes in all their screen doors just to prove they weren’t the boss of him. Why should someone else decide who he could be friends with? Wasn’t that just between the two of them? Giving up a friend because of some old fart, no thank you! 

With a flush, Iruka realized he’d been nodding along to his own mental argument. 

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well,” he said before he could think better of it, “rather proving anything to them, isn’t it about whether or not Hinata-chan agrees?” He softened his expression and his tone, knowing this was something Naruto wouldn’t want to hear. “If she agrees with them, then you can’t keep bothering her, even if you don’t like it.” 

Naruto’s lower lip trembled. “N-no way! Hinata-chan, Hinata-chan said she wants to be friends!” he declared, though his voice shook with clear uncertainty. 

Given Hinata’s character, she probably just nodded... But more importantly, “Was that before or after her family talked to her about it?” Iruka asked. 

The silence from Naruto was a clear answer. “It’s not like I can talk to her now,” Naruto complained rebelliously. “They’re always getting in the way! I... wanna talk to Hinata-chan again, but they’re always...” 

He sniffled, and Iruka flinched instinctively. 

Oh no. Oh no... 

This was it. He was done for. How was he supposed to not do anything when faced with that? 

‘I’m going to be in so much trouble for this,’ Iruka thought. 

But even so. 

“Okay. I’ll help you,” he said. “So you can talk to her again. But just once!” 

~.~

Technically, there was nothing stopping Naruto from talking to Hinata during the school day. Or at least, the Hyuuga clan wasn’t. Rather, Hinata herself was simply avoiding him. 

Iruka would have normally considered that the end of the matter. If one of his students didn’t want to talk to another, it wasn’t his place as a teacher to interfere. In fact, it was outright inappropriate for him to pressure them or trick them. If he had been a little older, not a sixteen year old newly minted chuunin on his first year of teaching, he wouldn’t have considered doing this at all. 

That was why he repeatedly made it clear that this would be the only time. 

If separating was what Hinata wanted, he would make sure Naruto understood that and didn’t keep chasing after her. 

But with that in mind, setting up a meeting between the two children was laughably simple. All he needed to do was ask Hinata to come by the teacher’s lounge during a break, when no one else was around, while Naruto lurked behind an empty desk. And then...

“S-sensei, I’m here. What did you...” Hinata trailed off as her friend stepped out into view. Her small face crumpled, not angry or scared but completely  _ miserable.  _

“Hinata-chan...” Naruto greeted her with a rare uncertainty. “Um...” 

“Naruto-kun...” 

Neither of them appeared able to say anything more, as they avoided each other’s eyes and fidgetted nervously. But more than anything, as the tension built, both of them looked ready to break out in tears. 

It was Hinata who gave out first. “N-Naruto-kun, I... I, I—!” 

Growing increasingly frantic, she tried to force out a confession, but the words wouldn’t come. 

“...It’s okay. I get it,” Naruto spoke up quietly. “Your mom and dad told you to stay away from me, right? I get it.” 

Because it wouldn’t be the first time — far from it. His usually expressive face was unsettlingly blank and detached as he finally looked at Hinata, and his tone was even, too mature by far. 

“You’ll get in trouble if you keep playing with me, right? I get it. Anybody would choose their mom and dad,” he went on. “If that’s what Hinata-chan wants, I gotta... I just gotta deal with it, right?’ Despite his best efforts, his voice cracked. “So—! So I just wanna say... thanks for being my friend, Hinata-chan, even just a little while. It was the longest I ever had a friend before.” 

It had been just a few weeks. 

Although he tried his best, his smile wasn’t convincing at all. 

“S-so! I won’t bother you anymore...”

Unable to take it anymore, Hinata reached out—

Naruto bolted from the room. 

Her mouth dropping open in surprise, Hinata stared after him, at the door that slowly slid back halfway. “N-Naruto-kun...” she whimpered. With a soft sob, she suddenly knelt down, curling up and hiding her face, and began to cry. 

Completely taken aback, Iruka glanced frantically between one student sobbing in the middle of the teacher’s lounge and the open door where the other had vanished, probably no better off. 

Wh... which one was he supposed to comfort first...?

~.~

Hinata cried all through the rest of the break period, and her tears didn’t seem to be letting up as class was about to begin. When Iruka offered to send her home for the day, she considered it without lifting her head and finally nodded faintly. 

It was the first time she walked home alone since her family found out about Naruto. It was the first time she’d been allowed out into the village alone at all, for that matter, and Hinata took her time, picking a meandering route back without thinking about it. But that was alright. She wanted to take her time. 

She… didn’t want to see her family, for as long as she could. 

That was nothing new, though. 

Obeying her father and avoiding Naruto hadn’t made things any better, really. Disobeying would make them worse, she supposed. But... 

_ ‘...even if it was just for a little while.’  _

If she could at least be happy for a short while, wasn’t that worth it? 

She might never be happy again, so... even just one more day... 

When she finally returned home, Hinata blindly passed the teacher’s note from Iruka to one of the servants and quickly vanished into her room. 

Her father must have been notified almost immediately, but to her surprise, he didn’t call for her until well into the evening, until the time her usual training sessions took place. “Hinata-sama, please come to the training hall,” the branch family maid said, her head bowed as proper. “Hiashi-sama will be overseeing your training personally today.” 

So it was going to be like that again. 

“...Yes. I will be ready shortly,” she said finally. 

To Hinata, the words “training” and “sparring” had always been synonymous with “pain” and “humiliation.” She knew her opponents all held back, but they didn’t hold back enough for her efforts to be anything but meaningless flailing. She could never do enough to earn even the slightest respite, and every training session with her clan became just a long beatdown until Hinata either collapsed in tears, unable to stand any longer, or until her instructor grew tired of her incompetence and declared the session over. 

All she could do was steel herself and endure until the training was finally, finally over. 

She felt tired as she changed into her training clothes and shuffled slowly to the training room. She felt tired as her father looked at her with a controlled, unreadable expression from the other side of the room. 

Had he ever been happy with her? Hinata couldn’t remember. It seemed impossible. 

If she wasn’t ever going to make him happy, if she wasn’t going to  _ be _ happy here... then at least she should have Naruto-kun, even if only for a short while. 

Driven by that sudden impulse, with daring she wouldn’t have believed she had in her, Hinata lifted her chin and said the words she had been repeating to herself countless times. No matter how soft, for once her voice didn’t shake. 

“Naruto-kun is my friend.” 

It was like a declaration of war. 

As she had expected, Hiashi frowned, and struck. Hinata’s attempts at block and counter were pathetic as always, but she didn’t fall down this time, only stumbling and then straightening up with grim determination. Even as he followed up, aiming to cause more pain than incapacitation, she picked herself up with barely any pause. 

She refused to cry. Now that it was already at this stage, she felt an unexpected refusal to back down. So what if her father was angry? Wasn’t he always angry at her? Didn’t this always end up happening anyway? 

At the very least... at the very least... 

“Naruto-kun... is my friend,” Hinata repeated stubbornly, even as her breathing began to grow labored and she winced in pain. 

Hiashi frowned, the expression clear to even a non-Hyuuga. 

It didn’t take all that long, in the end, for Hinata to reach her limits. No matter how she struggled, her body refused to go any further. The arm she tried to prop herself up with gave out and she collapsed to the floor. Her vision was going blurry, and she couldn’t even activate the Byakugan anymore. 

But still, one last time, she insisted, “Naruto-kun is… my…” 

Friend. Her one, precious friend. 

~.~

Hinata regained consciousness well after dark, in her own bed and even in her sleeping yukata. The rest of the house was silent and most of the lights had been put out, so it could only be late at night, long after supper. Her stomach rumbled unhappily as she gingerly slipped out from under the covers. 

Carefully and silently sliding open the door, she crept out into the empty, shadowy hallway and began to make her way toward the kitchens. Hinata was not favored enough for any food to have been left out for her, but if she was lucky, there would be something left over from the evening meal that would tide her over until morning. 

As she approached a room that was still lit, Hinata slowed her steps even further. She couldn’t see any movement inside, but it was unlikely that the room was empty. Fortunately, no one in their family kept their Byakugan active casually inside their home, so as long as she was quiet enough... 

Just as she tiptoed past the closed door, a voice from inside made her freeze. 

“...Have you reconsidered?” 

That was... grandfather? 

“For Hinata to interact with that boy will reflect on the entire clan,” the elder went on, his voice barely discernible. “The nature of his existence is already too dangerous, and what I’ve heard of his personality... It’s unseemly for a child of the main family to associate with one such as him. You must discipline her firmly.” 

Oh, they were talking about her. And father was...

“She has already been disciplined as firmly as we can allow,” Father replied. His tone was even and unreadable as always. “What else is there to do? Starve her? Pull her from the Academy?” 

“If it must be done...” 

Hiashi spoke up, just barely short of rudeness. “It will raise questions, if not in the open, then in whispers behind our backs. Her year has many clan heirs as well. For the Hyuuga clan’s dignity, that will be far worse. Rather than pushing the issue, it’s better to give it time.”

“Time will only deepen bad habits. They must be nipped in the bud.” 

“Children drift apart easily. She has not experienced life outside the clan before and is simply mistakenly fascinated with it. With time, she will have the perspective to understand that our teachings were right from the start.” 

There was a long silence from inside the room. Hinata shivered, imagining her grandfather’s cold, piercing stare. He never activated his Byakugan, unlike the younger members of the clan aiming to intimidate, but he seemed to stare directly into people’s minds even without it. 

“Hiashi,” he said, his tone hard, “what do you think this lenience will accomplish?” 

Another silence, the tension obvious even to Hinata still crouched outside in the hallway. 

She should leave, she thought distantly. Getting caught here would be beyond disastrous. But... they were talking about her. She couldn’t make herself move. 

Finally, her father let out a long, slow breath. 

“Did punishing Hizashi strictly accomplish anything?” he asked, so quietly Hinata could barely make out the words. He paused, making some point she couldn’t understand. “Every time he was punished and forbidden from doing something, he only rebelled further. And yet, in the end, he still chose to carry out his fate. In the end, everyone in the Hyuuga clan has a destiny to fulfill. It is only a matter of time before they understand that, and trying to force that knowledge on them too early... only leads to needless strife.” 

‘Uncle...’ Hinata thought numbly. 

It was the only thing she could still think. Everything else was too muddled for her to comprehend. 

Drift apart from Naruto? Understand that her father and grandfather had been right all along — that Naruto was somehow unseemly, unworthy of being friends with her? Hinata couldn’t imagine that. 

Suddenly, she didn’t want to hear anything else. 

But she silently began to shuffle back the way she had come, no longer in any mood to care about her stomach, she heard her grandfather sigh and say, “As you wish. You are the clan head now. You must make your own choices.” 

If her father replied, Hinata was no longer there to know. 

~.~

The next morning, Hinata overslept — until a maid dragged her out of bed and quickly rushed her into a set of clean clothing. She was escorted to the Academy as usual, all the way to the gates. 

But, Hinata thought with a certain sense of rebelliousness, Kou couldn’t follow her inside. In the end, no matter how much they tried or how angry they got, her clan couldn’t control everything she did. 

As long as she didn’t give up, there would be a way. 

She wouldn’t give up. Not when it came to Naruto-kun. 

The classroom was already full, every other first year present, and Hinata easily found Naruto’s mop of bright yellow hair — alone in a corner, his head bowed in uncharacteristic gloom. He didn’t look up even when Hinata slid into the seat next to him, apparently not even aware of her presence. 

Although she wanted to say something, she found the words stuck in her throat. What could she say? What would be good enough, after ignoring and being mean to Naruto for so long? 

Feeling the weight of her increasingly troubled gaze, Naruto finally glanced up. 

Their eyes met, and the two of them stared at each other. 

“H-H-HINATA-CHAN?!” Naruto screamed, jumping to his feet in surprise. With a startled squeak, Hinata jumped too. Between them and the blackboard, the entire class turned to stare as well. 

At the front of the room, the door slid open again, and Iruka made his way inside, unnoticed. He paused at the tableau his class made, his eyes slowly sliding across all the little heads turned away from him and finally settling on the pair in the far corner. His eyebrows jumped, but his expression soon turned into a soft smile. 

Before anyone could see, he schooled his expression back to something professional. 

“Okay, everyone! Quiet down, it’s time to start lessons!” he called out to the class. “And you, Naruto! Sit down!” 

Naruto didn’t obey, his mouth dropping open in wordless indignation. It was just too much of a turnaround for him to take. He’d spent all day yesterday moping around, not even returning to class, and all night sniffling sleeplessly into his pillow. He’d had to steel himself to come to class again! And now... and now...!

Reaching out, Hinata tugged at his t-shirt. It was a barely noticeable sensation, but Naruto dropped into his seat like a rock. 

“Um... Hinata-chan...” 

He trailed off uncertainly, sneaking glances at her, only for his eyes to slide away just as quickly. 

Hinata smiled, her cheeks burning with happiness — and also embarrassment. 

There was only one thing she could think to say. “Naruto-kun... is my friend,” she repeated, the words like a song in her heart. Flushing brighter, she peeked over at him. “...Okay?” 

A bright sunny grin spread over Naruto’s face, nearly cracking it in two. “Okay,” he agreed. “Okay!!” 

~.~


	10. Sixth Hokage Naruto AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr in 2016, written even before that lol. 

~.~

Heading down the hall at a pace that was a shade too brisk to be entirely suited for the Hokage, Sarutobi mentally cursed the fussy daimyo, his long winded messenger, and the incompetent assistants who hadn't been able to handle him without summoning the Hokage. 

Because of them, Sarutobi had been interrupted during one of his rare days off, when he was finally able to spend time on the smaller tasks that were so often shunted aside in favor of a Hokage’s endless, always more pressing duties. In particular -- spending time with Naruto. 

Knowing how desperately lonely the young boy got, especially now that he was judged old enough not to need a caretaker's supervision, Sarutobi hadn't wanted to send him away, even for work. He had hoped the matter could be resolved quickly, so he had simply left Naruto in his office...

But while Naruto was truly a sweet, kind boy, he was also an energetic, lively one, and Sarutobi could only wince as he imagined the state of his office after the tender mercies of a bored five year old.

"Naruto, I'm back," Sarutobi announced loudly as he opened the door to his office.

"I wasn't doing anything!" Naruto blurted out, immediately hiding his hands behind his back. 

That was as expected. What wasn't, was the fact that as far as Sarutobi could see, Naruto truly hadn't been doing anything wrong. In fact, the entire room was almost entirely as Sarutobi had left it — bookcases still in order, calligraphy still hanging on the walls, even the stacks of paperwork were undisturbed.

Instead, Naruto had been standing on his tiptoes next to the bonsai stands, his tiny hands running over the little leaves. 

"That's good. Thank you for waiting so patiently," Sarutobi said, making Naruto beam at the kind words. Moving next to Naruto, he took a moment to glance over the row of bonsai. They looked just fine as well, no branches broken, no leaves missing. "Do you like them?" he asked the boy.

Naruto nodded, still a little tentative, but brightening quickly now that he realized he wouldn't be scolded. "They're so tiny," he noted, with some worry. "Are they okay?" 

"Oh yes. They're meant to be small, so I can keep them in my office, you see," Sarutobi explained. Putting his hands around Naruto's waist, he lifted the boy up to get a better look. "Here. These bonsai trees are special. They were grown by our village's founder, the Shodaime. They were passed down to the Nidaime, and now to me."

They were also meant to be passed down to the Yondaime, but Minato had proven that there was at least one thing he wasn’t perfect at when he almost killed all the trees within the first month.

Naruto reached out to touch the leaves again — his fingers stroked them gently, Sarutobi noticed, unlike the boy's usual brash whirlwind of activity. A soft, awed smile played across Naruto's face as he leaned toward the tiny tree, and it almost looked as if the bonsai was leaning back toward him. 

It wasn't out of the question. Those trees were special indeed, created from and nurtured with Mokuton. For all Sarutobi knew, they might be able to somehow sense the bijuu's chakra within Naruto, or even the boy's own immense but untrained power.

"Why don't I show you how to take care of them?" Sarutobi decided. "These fellows are overdue for some water..."

Naruto listened attentively as Sarutobi explained how to check whether the trees needed to be watered and how much. His expression was comically serious as he carefully measured out the right amount of water for one the trees and slowly poured it all around the tiny trunk. The boy had only been so fascinated by anything when Sarutobi explained to him how to mold chakra a few months back, though Naruto still couldn’t perform any jutsus. 

Even after the trees were watered and returned to their stands — Sarutobi had taken them down to let Naruto get a better view — Naruto continued to watch them closely, as if he expected them to grow right in front of his eyes. 

Sarutobi smiled and shook his head. 

"You did a great job, my boy," he said. "In fact... I'll think I'll entrust you with it. Why don't you take over watering them from now on?" 

"Really? I can come again?" Naruto asked, beaming.

"I'll let the staff know to let you in, as long as you promise not to touch anything else," Sarutobi said indulgently. And he would make sure to impress that order on them, along with the consequences of disobeying it. 

He hadn't expected Naruto to remember for more than a few days, if that. But to his surprise, the boy kept coming back, almost daily — supposedly to check on the trees, if they needed more water, but mostly to look at them and carefully touch them for a few minutes. Not that the Sandaime minded. It was nice, to have Naruto's cheerful, bright presence visit so often, and the boy kept his promise not to touch anything else. 

One morning, when Sarutobi arrived in his office, he was greeted by a surprising sight. The bonsai were blooming — something that hadn't occurred since the Shodaime had been alive. 

He shook his head and smiled. Naruto was truly an amazing boy.

~.~

After his visit to the Sandaime's office, Naruto had a new fascination with plants. It wasn't as if he hadn't noticed the mass of green leafy things around Konoha before. But the ones in Jiji's office had been different and interesting, and Naruto was determined to see if there were any others like them — by touching and feeling every plant he could find. 

When hearing the reports of Naruto's new quest, the Sandaime had chuckled and shaken his head. It was harmless enough, and everyone was willing to let it pass, just hoping the Kyuubi boy wasn't up to some new, horrifying prank.

Well, until Naruto tried to climb a historic monument. The monument in question was a giant tree grown by the Shodaime himself, and cordoned off specifically so no one would touch or damage it. Naruto had pitched a fit when he was dragged off. 

"But that one's different!" Naruto stubbornly told Sarutobi. "It's all... tingly like the other ones! I just wanna touch it!"

Sarutobi had no idea what Naruto was talking about, but he nodded understandingly and promised to look into it. 

His former teammates were not enthusiastic about his proposed solution. "A cutting from one of Shodaime's trees? You know those never live long," Koharu chided him. "Are you giving the boy false hope?" 

She was right. Though Hashirama's Mokuton-grown trees could endure a great deal and flourished under almost any conditions — which made Minato's complete failure with them all the more puzzling — they did not grow beyond the size and shape they were first given, they did not produce fruit, and they did not allow themselves to be divided. Any cutting taken off them inevitably died in short order, without putting down even the tiniest of roots.

Even Tenzou had been unable to do anything with them. His own Mokuton only allowed him to produce separate trees, not affect the ones the Shodaime had grown. 

"Those bonsai never bloomed either," Sarutobi countered, chewing on his pipe. "If anyone can do it, it's Naruto."

"Are they responding to the bijuu's chakra?" Homura wondered. 

"Who can say?" Sarutobi shrugged. "It's true that Hashirama-sama had a special connection to the bijuu. And Naruto is, however distantly, related to the Senju clan on his mother's side."

And that was how Naruto got his first potted plant. It was really just a carefully cut branch from one of the Shodaime's trees, planted into a plain, sturdy container full of high quality soil. 

"Now, there's no guarantee it'll grow," Sarutobi cautioned Naruto. "It might not like its new home, and that's not your fault at all. Sometimes it just doesn't work out."

But despite the old man's words, Naruto couldn't help but worry if he had done something wrong as the small cutting began to droop and shrivel. Nothing he did seemed to make the newly named Mr. Ukki happy. 

Deeply concerned, Naruto began to spend his days seated on his balcony, across from the little tree, speaking to it in encouraging tones and gently stroking its leaves. 

He thought that might help, since he still got that tingly feeling in his fingers. In fact, his fingers began to feel a little numb if he touched the tree long enough, but the leaves always looked a little greener afterwards. 

Finally growing too concerned with Naruto's pensive mood to ignore it any longer, Sarutobi managed to pull Naruto away from his little tree with the promise of teaching him a jutsu. 

"Is this gonna be like using that kachra stuff?" Naruto asked, pouting. "Cause that was really boring." 

Sarutobi chuckled. The initial stages of learning to mold chakra were admittedly pretty dull, since they just involved a lot of meditating and balancing of internal energies. Naruto caught on pretty quickly, though his control was terrible, but he still found the whole thing a terrible disappointment.

"No, that part is over. This time I'll show you a real jutsu — Henge," Sarutobi said. "It's one of the three Academy students learn. You can transform into anything you want!"

To demonstrate, the old man brought his hands together and molded just enough chakra for the E-rank jutsu. A puff of smoke, and Naruto found himself staring at a boy who looked just like him. 

"Like this, dattebayo," Sarutobi said, even adding on Naruto's little verbal tic. 

That definitely caught Naruto's attention, and he cheered in excitement. 

Hours later, some of Naruto's excitement had waned, but it was replaced by stubborn determination. He had gotten the basics down — at the very least he was able to transform into something. Unfortunately, that something was largely a misshapen mass that might have been vaguely human-like. 

"That's enough for today," Sarutobi said, patting Naruto on the head. "You can practice some more tomorrow. Now remember, the key to Henge is knowing and understanding what you're trying to transform into. So be sure to study your target closely." 

Naruto rolled his eyes but nodded grudgingly. 

However, he didn't bother waiting until the next day. Instead, he started practicing again as soon as he got home. It was hard. Naruto hated to admit it, but he was tired. He felt almost sore, but not quite. As he tried to gather his energy like Sarutobi had taught him, his body was tingly all over...

Tingly. 

"Ah!!" Naruto burst out in realization, pointing dramatically out at the little tree on his balcony. 

Suddenly, it all clicked together. Jiji's special trees were made with ninjutsu. So maybe they needed more of that kachra stuff to be happy! 

Naruto didn't hesitate to rush out onto the balcony and kneel beside the little sapling. Gathering all of his not inconsiderable chakra, Naruto carefully wrapped his hands around the thin stem and...

He didn't even need to do anything else. The branch drank up his chakra, the shriveled leaves unfurling again, new green shoots forming. The sapling grew quickly until it had absorbed every bit of the chakra Naruto had gathered, then stopped just as quickly, looking quite satisfied.

And, as if to express its contentment, several small flowers opened across its branches. 

"Whoa..." Naruto muttered.

Plants... were so cool.

~.~ 

Emboldened by his success with Mr. Ukki, the cutting from Shodaime's tree, Naruto decided he needed more of his new favorite thing — plants. 

Being of the independent and go-getter sort, Naruto didn't bother consulting anyone. There were plenty of plants outside, and no one would miss a few. There was also plenty of dirt. And as far as pots for all of them went... Naruto glanced around his apartment. His eyes brightened.

He had plenty of containers too. And Jiji was always going on about throwing out his used instant ramen cups! Naruto had known they'd come in handy someday.

The first of Naruto's acquisitions was the little weed that had poked up next to his apartment building. No one wanted it anyway, and the poor thing was always getting trampled on. But it always lifted itself back up. Naruto had to admire its perseverance. 

Unfortunately, Naruto wasn't very careful when he transferred it to its new home, all but ripping out its roots. By the end of the day, it was already drooping alarmingly. 

Chewing his lip worriedly, Naruto decided he needed to do something. He would try that thing, with the kachra — after all, it had worked for Mr. Ukki. 

Gathering his chakra again, Naruto carefully edged up to the drooping weed and touched it gingerly. His brow furrowed as nothing happened. That tingly feeling wasn't there either. 

The plant, being a normal plant, couldn't just absorb the chakra from him, unlike the Shodaime's trees, which had reacted to any of Naruto's chakra that they came into contact with.

However, Naruto wasn't one to give up so easily. Even if he didn't understand complicated chakra theory, he knew what it was supposed to feel like, and he knew how a jutsu felt like, so all he needed to do was replicate that feeling, Naruto decided. 

He... wasn't entirely wrong. Fortunately, he also had an instinctively good judgement for transferring his chakra to others and for altering his chakra to match his target's, at least somewhat.

So Naruto puffed up stubbornly and... pushed. 

The drooping little weed shuddered, nothing in its weed ancestry preparing it to be molded with chakra. As Naruto's chakra spread through its system, the plant suddenly began to grow, taller and taller until it towered over Naruto. Its roots ripped out through the sides of the instant ramen cup, and when it finally reached its full size — almost brushing the ceiling and now wide enough that Naruto would have had trouble wrapping his arms around it — it burst into bloom.

Thick yellow pollen quickly covered Naruto and the entire apartment. 

Naruto stared for a moment, then sneezed loudly. 

"Whoa..." he mumbled. 

Plants were really, really cool.

~.~

Despite what Naruto thought, no one in the village was unaware of his existence, or of his actions, even if they usually acted as if they were ignoring him. In fact, there were always people watching him, like a pot on a stove, or a faulty explosive tag. 

So his latest escapades went far from unnoticed.

First he ran around the village touching every plant in sight. Strange, but not particularly demon or fox like. Then he started running around with empty instant ramen cups and digging up little plants into them. Also strange, but still not demonic. Plants, after all, weren't like small animals and couldn't be used as sacrifices. As far as anyone knew. 

Then he hauled a bucket of dirt up to his room. ...At least it wasn't paint.

And then he didn't come down for several days. 

"There's no telling what he's doing up there!" the apartment manager complained to the Hokage, looking a little wild-eyed as he reported on Naruto's increasingly strange behavior. 

Sarutobi was tempted to tell him to just go check, instead of tattling to the leader of their entire village. Naruto wasn't even a shinobi under the Sandaime's command. But it had been a busy few days for him, and he supposed a visit to Naruto wouldn't be remiss. 

"I'm sure that if he was planning to clog the toilets, he would have already done so," Sarutobi assured the apartment manager. The poor man sent him a wounded animal look, making it clear he didn't think this was something to tease about and that clogged toilets were the least of his worries.

Sarutobi smiled benevolently. 

He made the trip through the village at a rather leisurely pace, and by the time he arrived, the manager was waiting impatiently for him out in front of the building. Sarutobi took his time, inspecting the walls, the floor, and the stairs up to the top floor, making the poor civilian sweat bullets. 

The building manager refused to even approach the landing in front of Naruto's door, instead cowering on the stairs. Sarutobi barely resisted rolling his eyes.

"Naruto? Are you there? I'm coming in!" he called out, knocking several times. There was no response, but Naruto often snuck out through the balcony or just ignored visitors. 

Opening the door, the Sandaime was greeted by a sea of green. Blooming green. 

He sneezed, loudly, sending up a cloud of pollen, which lay across the floor in a thick layer. 

"Jiji!" Naruto exclaimed, poking his head out from amidst the towering green stalks. "What do you think of my garden?" 

'This isn't a garden,' Sarutobi thought. 'It's a jungle!'

~.~


	11. Mokuton, part 2 (with Yamanaka)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name of the plant is based on Gekka Bijin (Beauty Under the Moon). The Rinne Festival is from The Last, but I basically… reskinned Christmas… Also, I tried to portray Inoichi’s reasons as understandable (though obviously very unfair to Naruto).

~.~

"Hello, Inoichi," Sarutobi said with a pleasant smile that immediately set the jounin on edge. "How are you doing? How is your lovely wife? Your daughter?" 

"Quite well, Sandaime-sama," Inoichi said, doing his best not to squirm.

"How is the flower shop?"

"Quite well also," Inoichi replied. He broke into cold sweat as the old man beamed.

"Excellent," Sarutobi pronounced. "Now, I have a favor to ask you, Inoichi..."

The head of the Yamanaka clan was pale after he heard the request. He had expected something difficult, but this was just too much. "Could I... Could I take an S-rank instead?" he asked pleadingly. 

"Inoichi," Sarutobi said sternly. "He's a little boy. I'm asking you to teach him about plants. Be a man and do it. ...Do I need to make it a mission?" 

"...No, I'll do it," Inoichi whimpered. It was all well and good for the Hokage to say Naruto was just a boy. Naruto liked him! To everyone else, he was a hellion. A hell spawn. 

Inoichi still remembered some of the extremely creative and extremely  _ annoying  _ pranks Naruto had pulled. There had been floods of complaints from the civilian merchants, from the chuunin staff of the Hokage tower, from the old folks in the retiree quarters, even from the Anbu, one memorable time. The child clearly had a talent for chaos and making a nuisance of himself. The pit traps alone had been... Inoichi shuddered at the memory. 

And then there was the matter of the Kyuubi... 

With his clearance, he had seen the intelligence reports about jinchuuriki from other villages. Even those that were not outright violent or hateful toward their own comrades were too unstable to be trusted entirely. How could you trust your back to someone who could lose control at any moment? It was no surprise — the power of the bijuu was simply too monstrous to be contained in a mere human. 

So far, the Yondaime’s seal seemed to have held up perfectly, and there had been no trace of the Kyuubi’s chakra coming from the boy even during his worst tempers. But even so, it was no surprise that everyone preferred to be safe and keep him at a distance. 

Of course, Inoichi was a seasoned shinobi, so he could swallow his unease. Still, it was far from an assignment he relished. 

Not that he could tell the Hokage this. 

With a heavy heart, he trudged to Naruto’s apartment building and slowly dragged himself up the stairs. Despite what Inoichi had half expected, the building was clean and well kept, the paint in the stairwell only a little faded and some of the doors scuffed with the usual wear and tear. Well, it would have to be well kept, of course, given that the Hokage made regular visits...

His nose twitched, making him sniffle suspiciously, despite the building smelling only a little damp and dusty. Inoichi just hoped he wasn’t coming down with something. That was the last thing he needed — to be sick while dealing with the little hellion. 

Gathering his courage, Inoichi knocked on the door of Naruto’s home. 

Anticlimactically, there was no response. 

Brows furrowing, Inoichi knocked again — with the same outcome. However, the Hokage had given him permission to go in and even a key, though accompanied by the long-suffering comment that Naruto never did lock up. 

It would be, Inoichi supposed, a good chance to scope out the battlefield. Slowly, he opened the door — which was indeed unlocked. 

What greeted him was... a jungle. No, a pigsty. A disaster zone. 

Pollen, dirt and loose leaves covered the floor in a thick carpet. Massive bushes and brush up to the ceiling formed a maze across the small one-room apartment. There were vines clinging to every wall and the ceiling, making the color beneath undistinguishable. 

Inoichi was not a particularly fastidious man. Nonetheless, he could only stare in horror — and sneeze mightily. 

A tiny head, blond under a layer of dirt, popped out from behind a large fern(?) and wide blue eyes blinked at the unexpected intruder. Inoichi stared back, still a bit too off balance to take control of the situation, as a skilled ninja was supposed to. 

The boy recovered first, his expression crumbling into a defensive frown. “Who’re you?” he demanded. “Why are you in my house?” 

“I’m... Yamanaka Inoichi. The Hokage sent me,” Inoichi managed, quickly holding up his hands. He tried to smile, but he suspected that it came across more awkward than reassuring. Certainly, Naruto still looked dubious, his lower lip sticking out in a pout. 

“Gramps did? Why?” 

“To... to teach you about plants,” he explained somewhat faintly. 

Naruto immediately brightened. “Really? You mean it?! That’s so cool! Come on!” Grabbing Inoichi by the hand, he started trying to drag him deeper into the jungle. “I’ll introduce you to everybody! These are Mister Mochiri, Mister Kosokoso, Mister...” 

He was introducing Inoichi to the plants, pointing excitedly to each one. 

“Wait, wait,” Inoichi broke in quickly. “That’s... very nice, Naruto... kun. But before that, we need to clean up here.” 

“Clean?” 

“Yes, clean,” he repeated, ignoring the way Naruto wrinkled his nose. “It’s not healthy to live like this. For you or the plants. So first, we’re going to clean this place up.” 

~.~ 

Naruto didn’t like that idea, of course. He protested loudly and stubbornly, in the most whiny tone a tiny thing like him could muster. It was grating. After a while, there were teeth involved, as Inoichi attempted to drag him along by force. Holding the squirming child aloft with one hand — well away from his person, since Naruto was still flailing energetically — Inoichi stared at the bite mark on his other arm. Maybe he should have worn his uniform for this, he considered. 

He hoped the kid didn’t have rabies. He wasn’t getting paid enough for that kind of thing. 

...He wasn’t getting paid at all. He should have taken the Sandaime up on making it a proper mission. 

When Naruto finally stopped squirming, Inoichi let out a sigh of relief. “Are you going to behave now?” he asked. 

He received a scowl in return, along with a pout, but he didn’t expect much better. 

“Well then, let’s get started,” Inoichi said. “First, we’re going to move all these plants outside.” 

“What?!” 

“They aren’t indoor plants. It’s not good for them to be here,” he explained patiently, although he couldn’t quite stop himself from wincing at the volume of Naruto’s protesting shriek. “Look, they don’t even fit. We’ll replant them outside, so they can enjoy the sun more and grow as much as they need.” 

Not that these plants were supposed to grow this large. He recognized some of them as common, well, weeds, except that they were roughly five-ten times as big as they ever got naturally. What did the kid do to them...? 

They’d also all need a good pruning, but Inoichi wasn’t sure a child this young would understand the concept easily, so he left that out for now. 

“But... but...” To Inoichi’s horror, Naruto was beginning to tear up. “But I don’t want them to go! I don’t wanna be by myself again!” 

Kids at that age cried easily, often for the smallest reason, Inoichi knew. Even his Ino, who was already developing a rather tough attitude, would tear up over the silliest things like being unable to find a hair clip she liked or not being allowed to go out and play because it was raining. They calmed down just as easily, of course. But even knowing that, it was still instinct to tense up and panic a little. 

Quickly setting the boy on the floor, Inoichi waved his hands in something that might have been a futile attempt to calm him. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he promised. “You can still have some... plant friends here, but they need to be plants that like being indoors! Otherwise, they’ll be unhappy, see? You don’t want them to be unhappy, right?” 

“But they  _ are  _ happy,” Naruto protested. 

That was... possible, maybe. Given how much they’d grown, or perhaps mutated... 

“They don’t fit,” Inoichi said firmly. “You wouldn’t crowd all your human friends in one room, would you?” 

“I don’t have any human friends,” the boy said with the kind of candidness that made it worse. 

“...Well, when you make some, you can’t do that,” Inoichi said. “No one would be happy with that.” 

Unsurprisingly, Naruto was not convinced. However, he also didn’t try to stop Inoichi, only sitting off to the side and watching suspiciously as the man started carrying the plants out of the apartment and out of the building. Or rather... that’s what Inoichi intended to do, but the actual process was not so straightforward. 

None of the plants had anything like proper pots. Most seemed to have originally been planted in styrofoam instant ramen cups, of all things, but as they grew, their roots quickly broke through and clung to the floor, slipping into the cracks in the floorboards and anchoring themselves. It was a miracle the building manager hadn’t complained yet. 

It was tempting to just rip them off and throw them out — they really were just overgrown weeds — but Inoichi could already imagine the tears and screaming that would follow. He felt a bit bad even considering it. The kid was clearly attached to his jungle, even giving each plant a name. It was hard to say whether any of them would survive their forced relocation, but he supposed he needed to at least do what he could to make it easier on them. 

And that meant painstakingly wiggling each one loose with the smallest possible damage to their roots, a time consuming and tiring process. 

Within fifteen minutes, if that, Inoichi’s back was aching and his nose was stuffed from the dust and pollen. He should have been able to handle it better, as an active shinobi, but somehow it was far worse than any stakeout he’d ever been on. 

....Well, maybe not worse than that thing in Land of Frost. 

Still. His back really hurt. He was getting too old for this kind of thing. 

It occurred to Inoichi that he wasn’t supposed to be cleaning the place — he was supposed to be teaching the boy, specifically about how to properly care for plants. 

“Naruto-kun,” Inoichi said, turning to him with his most agreeable persuasive smile. “Why don’t you come over here and help?” 

“I don’t want to,” Naruto replied point blank, his face twisting up unhappily. 

How belligerent... Even their Ino didn’t have this much of a temper. 

“I think you should,” Inoichi insisted, keeping his smile firmly in place. 

“No!” 

“Don’t you want to know how to care for your plant friends properly? That’s no good, Naruto-kun.” 

“No!! They’re fine already!” 

A muscle twitched in Inoichi’s cheek. “Naruto-kun, be good,” he said. 

“No!” 

_ “Naruto-kun...!”  _ Inoichi ground out one syllable at a time, his patience strained more by this small child than the most uncooperative foreign nin to have ever been brought into T&I. 

“NO!” 

“YES!” 

“NOOOOO!”

“Um... Dad?” 

Naruto and Inoichi broke off in the middle of their unintentional screaming match to look at the open doorway — and the small girl standing there, a wrapped something in her arms.

“Ino-chan? Why are you here?” Inoichi wondered. Realizing he was trying to drag around a child his daughter’s age by the scruff of his t-shirt, he quickly let go. Released, Naruto dropped back onto the floor and the roots he had been clinging to. However, he was too busy staring at Ino in surprise to scramble away like he would have usually. 

“You’ve been gone so long that Mom made me bring you lunch,” Ino said, holding out the cloth-wrapped bento box she was carrying. “The people at the Hokage tower told me where to go. ...What are you even doing?” 

“We’re... cleaning,” Inoichi tried to explain without giving away too much, as he reached out to accept the bento. “It’s...”

“You can’t just come in!” Naruto interrupted, scandalized. “It’s MY house!” 

Ino shot him a particularly unimpressed look, one eyebrow rising and her lips curling in scorn. She had definitely learned that one from her Aunt Botan, to Inoichi’s consternation. “If you can call this a house,” she shot back. 

“It’s MY house!” Naruto repeated rather helplessly. It seemed he hadn’t had much practice arguing — most people likely simply avoided him — so all he could do was fall back on repeating himself more loudly and stubbornly. 

Ino snorted. “It’s not a house, it’s a disaster zone. How do you live like this?” she said in a tone that Inoichi recognized from  _ himself. _ Sticking her little fists on her hips, she stuck her nose in the air and looked down on Naruto in a very literal way. “You better clean this up! Or it’ll be Mind Destruction jutsu for you!” 

Obviously, she had no idea who Naruto was and the state of his home hardly mattered to her. But the chance to boss someone around like her parents bossed her? Priceless. Especially since Shikamaru had long since stopped listening to her attempts toward him and keeping Chouji in motion took constant and sustained force beyond what even Ino could muster. 

Naruto gaped at her, completely outmatched. They stared off until, slowly, his lower lip began to quiver in defeat. “It’s... bad?” he wondered. 

“Yes,” Ino said ruthlessly. “Clean it up right now!” 

Watching him dither, clearly unsure how to even start, she huffed and grabbed his hand. 

“Come on, first we’ll sweep,” she declared, perhaps because that was a chore she was often tasked with. “Where’s your broom?” 

“I don’t have one...” 

About-facing, Ino dragged him toward the open front door instead. “Then we’ll borrow one!” 

“B-but...” 

Probably none of his neighbors or the building manager had ever shown much willingness to help him, but Inoichi suspected that they would have a much harder time saying no to Ino. There was a sound of sharp knocking on wood, followed by the indistinct murmur of voices, one of them Ino’s high-pitched, sharp demands. Indeed, it didn’t take long for the children to return, and Ino immediately set Naruto to rather skilllessly sweeping from one corner of the small apartment. 

“No, not like that! Look, you have sweep like this! You have to move the chair, don’t just sweep around it!” she commanded. Naturally, she didn’t make a move to actually help though. 

Naruto regained his senses after a while and began to scowl and pout at her, but Inoichi’s little girl was not one to be put off so easily and continued to badger him into cooperation. It helped that, whether from her firm tone or just from the rare experience of dealing with someone his own age, Naruto was far more biddable toward her than toward her father. 

Inoichi himself watched the pair with a vague sense of something like unease. 

“Ino-chan,” he called out finally, “you don’t have to stick around, you know? Why don’t you head home?” 

“Why? I’m fine here,” she said. Naruto glanced between them with an expression that could have been fear that she’d leave or fear that she’d stay. 

She was the type who got stubborn whenever she found something new and interesting. It would be more trouble than it was worth to try and dissuade her. After a while, the novelty of bossing Naruto around would wear off, Inoichi decided. He’d just leave the kids be for now. Instead, he turned his attention to the bento Ino had brought, his stomach already rumbling at the promise of food. 

Later, he would regret this lackadaisy attitude. 

~.~

It had already been autumn when Sarutobi approached Inoichi, just after Naruto’s sixth birthday — or, rather, just after the sixth anniversary of the Kyuubi attack and the Yondaime’s death, the way the rest of the village thought of it. 

Meeting with Naruto every weekend to force common sense and plant knowledge into him, time had passed quickly for Inoichi. Before he knew it, winter had come, and Konoha was soon covered in a light dusting of fresh snow. 

Few shinobi liked snow, especially in Konoha. Covering your tracks was always especially tedious and no one had much practice in it — terrible for missions. Plus, the standard uniforms were just slightly too thin to be comfortable during the coldest weeks, but putting on another layer restricted mobility, and refusing to switch to close-toed shoes had become something like a village-wide game of chicken, where everyone felt it a matter of pride to deny that they were uncomfortable in their usual sandals. A real shinobi toughed it out even if their toes turned blue — something like that. 

Overall, it was an awful season all around. But Inoichi had an additional gripe. 

It had to do with their Yamanaka flower shop, as well as their other, private greenhouses. Most plants did not fare well in winter, and while there were various methods of overcoming their natural cycles, those methods were both tedious and not entirely reliable. 

Unfortunately, real life was not always accommodating toward such limitations. 

No matter how urgently it was needed, Kaguya Under the Moon would only bloom  _ under the moon, in the summer. _ Convincing the plant that it was summer was possible, by adjusting the temperature, moisture and duration of light in the greenhouse, but it really did have to be taken out into direct moonlight to make it bloom, and of course the outside air was far too cold, making it immediately shrivel up in displeasure. 

Aaaah, Kaguya Under the Moon, that damn finicky thing.... 

If it had been just a client, some nobleman or rich merchant looking to amuse themselves, Inoichi would have blown them off and been done with it. Maybe the mission always came first, but some things just weren’t possible. But it had been Shikaku who requested it, as an ingredient for a specific medicine that needed to be remade after their preserved stock of it was found to have an issue. 

Shikaku would understand that it couldn’t be done, of course. He wasn’t unreasonable. 

But letting down an old friend... 

Groaning, Inoichi tipped his head back and slumped over his chair, the forgotten cup of tea he’d poured himself long since gone cold. Busy wallowing in his misery, he didn’t look up even when Ino peeked into the dining room and shuffled over quietly. After a bit of hesitation, she even gingerly patted him on the shoulder. 

“Mom said you’re having a tough time,” Ino finally ventured. Her mother had also probably told her not to disturb Inoichi, but their girl never listened to anyone. 

“Yes, there’s some trouble at work, I just don’t know what to do. Daddy’s feeling really down about it,” Inoichi sighed. He made himself sound particularly hangdog, fishing for sympathy. Their Ino was a good girl, if pushy and impetuous. Surely she would feel worry for her poor father and say, ‘Can I help, Daddy?’ And then Inoichi would say, ‘Well… how about a big kiss?’—! 

“At the greenhouse, right?” Ino asked — as opposed to Inoichi’s work at T&I. “But how come you can’t just ask Naruto to grow whatever it is?” 

Inoichi’s expectant, excited expression dropped sharply. “...Naruto?” he repeated dully. 

He’d thought he was done with that little hellion. He’d finally washed his hands of him!

It had taken weeks to make Naruto’s apartment habitable to ordinary humans again, even with Ino often coming along and badgering Naruto himself into helping. He had some way of disentangling the plants and moving them out without damaging them, but he’d also kicked up a fuss about where every plant was moved  _ to, _ which extended the entire process. 

By the time they got to a crash course on handling actual house plants, Inoichi hadn’t even cared to ask why Ino had taken it on herself to present Naruto with a nice lily in a brightly glazed pot. He’d just wanted to be done with the whole thing — even when he was behaving, Naruto was tiring, and he didn’t behave often. 

Now, he wondered if maybe he should have paid more attention. 

“Yeah, Naruto. You remember him, right?” Ino said. “He can grow pretty much anything.” 

Obviously, there was no way Inoichi could forget him, even if the brat’s weird affinity for plants had slipped his mind. The real question was why Ino remembered him. It had already been a while since the Hokage’s “special mission” came to an end, so shouldn’t Naruto have already started to fade from the top of her mind? 

But even as he frowned uncertainly, Inoichi had to admit his little girl had a point. He was desperate enough to try it, in any case. 

“Let’s have him come over,” Ino decided. “I’ll ask him tomorrow.” 

“Ah… You don’t have to, I can do it,” Inoichi tried to tell her. 

Ino waved him off. “It’s fine. You’re busy, right? I’ll do it.” Then, before he could try protesting further, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight, Daddy! Sweet dreams!” 

“...Sweet dreams, honey~!” Inoichi waved after her with a dopey smile, as she rushed off. 

~.~

The next day, Inoichi realized that he had indeed taken the entire thing too lightly. And also, that it was already too late to change anything. 

When the two children arrived, Ino was leading Naruto by the hand, seemingly entirely unconcerned. She had never been a particularly reserved girl, but that was the kind of thing she didn’t get up to even with Shikamaru and Chouji, no matter how many times she had to drag them around. For his part, Naruto was somewhere between bashful and apprehensive, a furrow between his brows and his lip jutting out stubbornly. It was probably the first time he had been invited to anyone’s home, and knowing Ino, she hadn’t explained anything. 

But far worse and more tellingly, his bangs had been pinned aside with a few colorful clips that Inoichi vaguely recognized. 

They were already at the swapping accessories level?! 

How could he have missed this?

True, Ino had probably just decided to play dress up with her newest victim, and Naruto was still far from able to handle her. But even so... When did they become so close? 

“We’re here! Where’s this plant, Daddy?” Ino called out, immediately taking the lead. 

This was not the right time to start asking questions. And, well, Inoichi did want to get this request resolved, if possible. “It’s this way,” he said. “Now, make sure you don’t touch anything. Ino-chan, keep an eye on Naruto-kun, okay?” 

Ino, at least, had the importance of not touching strange plants,  _ especially _ in the special greenhouses, firmly impressed on her from before she could walk. It would have probably been ideal to bring Kaguya Under the Moon outside, but the few plants they had were already feeling rather displeased by the repeated experiments on them. The best Inoichi could do was put one in the outermost room of the greenhouse. 

“Here it is,” he said, carefully setting the heavy pot on the ground, since the children wouldn’t be able to reach the worktables. “Be careful with it. It’s quite delicate. We’ve been trying to get it to bloom, but…” 

“Can you do it?” Ino asked Naruto, barely listening to her father, who sighed heavily but didn’t scold her yet. 

“Yeah! P-probably,” Naruto declared with gusto, only to wilt a bit immediately. “I just gotta put my kachra in, right?” 

He yelped as Ino pinched his cheek and pulled. “Chakra! Cha-k-ra!” she said. “You say it too! Cha-k-ra!” 

“Cha-h-rah! Cha-h-rah!” Naruto slurred as his cheek was stretched out more and more. He wailed, batting half-hearted at Ino. “Le’go, you!” 

Sticking her nose up, Ino let him go. “Good! And don’t forget it! We’re starting Academy soon, you know. You need to get serious about being a ninja!” She crossed her arms and nodded to herself, while Naruto pouted, rubbing his sore cheek and edging away. 

“I know that-ttebayo!” he muttered. “I can do Henge better than you!” 

“S-so what? I only just started practicing! And at least I can throw a shuriken straight! And I know who the previous Hokage were!” Ino shot back. 

“Who cares what their names were! Jiji is jiji! And that one guy who didn’t even do anything—” 

“Don’t say the Nidaime didn’t do anything! And don’t you want to be Hokage? See how you like it when nobody remembers  _ your _ name—!” 

“I’ll be so cool everyone will remember!” 

Inoichi’s eyebrows climbed higher and higher. “Ino-chan,” he interrupted, raising his voice to be heard over the squabbling pair, “you know Henge?” Because he certainly hadn’t taught her yet. 

“Guh.” Ino froze, her eyes sliding away from him. Sharply kicking Naruto in the shin, she crossed her arms and refused to look at him. “W-well… Naruto showed me how, in exchange for teaching him shuriken. I was gonna surprise you…” 

She’d probably felt her pride stung that Naruto could do something she couldn’t, honestly. 

However. 

A sliver of genuine worry went down Inoichi’s spine. Not that he thought Naruto would have done something malicious, but there was no telling whether the boy was doing it right to begin with, or whether his unusual circumstances would affect the way he used chakra. Both of them were still too young to be trusted with unsupervised chakra training, not when doing serious, even permanent damage to their chakra network was a real if slim possibility. 

“That’s…” Catching sight of Naruto’s increasingly troubled and simultaneously rebellious expression, like he was bracing himself for a losing fight, Inoichi tamped down on his impulse to lecture them. Instead, he smiled vaguely. “That’s nice. Let’s talk about it later,” he said. “For now, why don’t you tell me what you’re going to do, Naruto-kun?” 

He never had gotten to the bottom of the boy’s strange affinity for plants, come to think of it. 

Naruto regarding Inoichi with suspicion, clearly still not feeling cooperative, until Ino elbowed him. “I’m just gonna put my ka—” Ino’s eagle gaze and tiny, ruthless hand darted toward Naruto, making him quickly correct course, “Chakra! Chakra! I’m gonna put my chakra into it!” 

“...That’s all? That’s really all you’re doing?” Inoichi wondered. 

Because it didn’t really work like that. 

Broadly speaking, yes, you could transfer chakra into a plant, or an animal or another human. You could even do it with inanimate objects. However, just pushing chakra in was somewhere between useless and outright detrimental to the target. 

Any object that wasn’t made of special conductive material or didn’t have a seal on it to absorb the chakra would just let it dissipate without any real effect. Every kid got the bright idea to make their kunai work ‘better’ by putting chakra in it, but that never really worked. 

Or, if they were particularly enthusiastic about it, they ended up with a twisted, brittle to the point of breaking at next hit, or even melted kunai. Because shoving in more chakra than the object could safely dissipate would actively destroy it from the inside out. 

Carelessly pushing chakra into a living being? That went about as well as you’d expect. 

Living beings, whether plants, animals or humans, had their own internal energy that naturally circulated through their bodies. If the chakra being transferred to them wasn’t properly synchronized between the sender and receiver, the effects were potentially deadly. That was part of what made medical ninjutsu so difficult, since it had to be synchronized and then targeted correctly. 

Although it was somewhat counterintuitive, transferring chakra into a plant was actually harder than to another human, since a human — especially a ninja — could adjust their own chakra to better receive what was sent over. 

Inoichi knew that, rather than grow, plants were far more likely to tear apart from the inside or mutate and wither when pumped full of chakra. 

For a child that barely knew the basics of chakra manipulation to succeed so consistently, there had to be something more to it. 

A bloodline? A special property of his chakra? Some inclination or innate talent? 

However, Naruto only squinted in confusion. 

“Yeah, that’s all,” he said. “What’s wrong with that?” 

“Nothing at all. It’s very impressive,” Inoichi said quickly. “Well, then. Shall we get started?” 

“O-oh, yeah,” Naruto stammered, taken aback by the unexpected praise. Shooting Inoichi one more suspicious look, he shuffled over to the Kaguya Under the Moon and gingerly reached out to touch one of its leaves. 

This particular plant was not doing well. It had suffered through some of Inoichi’s more aggressive experiments, and it had not enjoyed the experience. Yellow and brown spots had appeared along its stem and leaves, and it was uncertain whether it would be able to recover. In other words, it was not a big loss even if Naruto messed up. 

But as Inoichi watched, his eyes widening, the Kaguya plant began to regain its color, the slumping stem and drooping leaves straightening up. It was growing visibly, increasing in size and sprouting new, fresh green leaves and — as had been requested — the white bud of a flower slowly swelled at the tip of a long stalk. 

Although, Inoichi wasn’t sure whether that was something actually controlled, or if Naruto was just pushing chakra into the plant until it naturally bloomed. 

At the very least, he could sense nothing demonic or corrosive about the boy’s chakra. 

So it wasn’t the Kyuubi… not that it had been a very likely possibility to begin with. 

“Oh! It’s blooming, it’s blooming!” Ino whispered excitedly, suddenly latching on to Inoichi’s arm. 

“It is,” Inoichi agreed, smiling and feeling a swell of excitement as well. 

Indeed, the white bud was opening — first the thin outer petals, then the inner layers, shaped almost like a lotus. The center of the flower was a shockingly vivid red. It was from that crimson center that the special ingredient Shikaku needed would be extracted. 

“OK, that’s enough,” Inoichi said. As Naruto obediently drew back, he absently patted the boy on the head and said, “Good job, Naruto-kun. Now leave the rest to me.” 

“Good luck, Daddy!” Ino said brightly, knowing not to get under Inoichi’s feet while he needed to concentrate. Grabbing Naruto, she began to steer him out of the greenhouse, both the Yamanakas ignoring the way he had clapped his hands over the top of his head and stared at Inoichi with open-mouthed surprise. 

Even as he turned to the flower, already starting the preparations for extraction, Inoichi could hear the fading wisps of their conversion — or at least Ino’s side of it. 

“What are you being so weird for? ... Of course you did a good job! I keep telling you, it’s a really cool jutsu! I wish I could just grow plants like that. ... That’s what I’m saying, you’re pretty cool, you know!...” 

He really... needed to do something about that, Inoichi thought, a troubled furrow in his brow. 

But not now. For now, he needed to concentrate. 

~.~

The chakra flow within the Kaguya plant that Naruto grew was somewhat odd, but there were no signs of mutation or any other issues with it. The harvested nectar also appeared to be completely normal, and Inoichi sent it off to the Nara clan without delay. Even so, it was already late evening when he was finally able to relax. 

He found Ino dozing on the living room couch, a small, fuzzy blanket tucked around her — a sign that her mother had approved this disregard of bedtime, probably in the name of father-daughter bonding. 

Unfortunately, although seeing her cute little face smooshed up against the couch pillow filled his heart with warmth, Inoichi suspected that Ino’s reasons for wanting to stay up to talk to him had more to do with her new friend. 

Or perhaps not so new. How long had the two of them been friends for, exactly? How had he let it slip past him? 

With Ino’s character, she wouldn’t let go easily once she decided something... 

But even so, Inoichi had to try — or at least warn her, in as much as he was able without breaking the Sandaime’s decree. Reaching down, he gently shook her shoulder. “Ino,” he called out. “Ino-chan, wake up.” 

“Ah... Daddy?” Ino muttered, rubbing at her eyes. “How did it... go?” Her question was interrupted by a wide yawn. 

“It went well,” Inoichi assured her. “Thank you, Ino-chan.” 

“It’s thanks to Naruto,” she corrected him. “I told you it’s super useful! ...Of course, you should be grateful to me for suggesting it too!” 

Inoichi chuckled, a little awkwardly. “Yes, it’s very useful,” he agreed — and it really was, if he thought of the possibilities. But more importantly... “It seems like you and Naruto-kun are good friends. Have you been hanging out?” 

“Yeah, since we helped him with his house,” Ino said, shifting around to sit more comfortably. She blushed lightly, scratching at her cheek. “I was mad because he was being so stubborn and giving you a hard time, so I went over more to chew him out and teach him about chores... since he doesn’t have a mom and dad to teach him. We got to talking about plants... and then sometimes when I saw him around the village, we’d play together. He doesn’t make as much of a fuss as Shikamaru about playing Princess Gale.” 

It sounded very natural, put like that. Since they had spent a bit of time together, even if it was mostly Ino hassling Naruto about cleaning the house and taking care of plants, the two ended up with some familiarity. And after that, Ino wouldn’t exclude him from games if they happened to run into each other — especially if Naruto was willing to swallow any complaints about “girly” games, unlike Shikamaru. 

Giving her a chance to show off her flower trivia probably helped too. Of course, that would then give Naruto plenty of chances to show off his strange jutsu with plants in return. Yes, it all added up, but...

“Ino-chan...” Inoichi started, choosing his words carefully. “Maybe you noticed, but Naruto is a bit different from other kids. I’m not saying he’s a bad kid, but... it would be better if you didn’t spend too much time with him.” 

No, Naruto wasn’t a bad kid, just a problem child, rude and troublemaking and lacking any proper upbringing. However, those things weren’t the problem. 

The problem was the Kyuubi. 

Jinchuuriki were unstable and rarely in full control of their powers. Even the most settled ones could lose it suddenly under emotional pressure, and children were bound to be even more volatile. Naruto was fine at the moment, as far as Inoichi could see and sense, but who knew what might serve as a trigger in the future. He had no idea. No one in Konoha did. 

If not now, then what about when the boy began training as a shinobi? When he began taking missions out in the field? The first time his life was in danger, or he saw a comrade injured... What would happen? 

And that wasn’t even bringing up the political side of Naruto’s existence. 

If their Yamanaka clan was seen to associate too closely with the Kyuubi’s host, it could potentially be seen as a power grab by their political opponents. It would take only one slanderous rumor to start whispers about their clan trying to use their  _ hiden _ mind jutsu to control the bijuu. Look what was happening to the Uchiha. Whether it was true or even possible wouldn’t matter. Once it was said once, their clan might never be able to erase the suspicion on them. 

Not that Inoichi could explain this to his little girl. 

Because of the Sandaime’s law, of course, but also because she was still so young. If she had been a new genin pershaps... but Ino was still only six, not even in Academy yet. 

Ino, who looked at her father with a blank expression. “Why?” she wondered, her voice rising with incredulity. 

“Well, that’s because... there are some complicated circumstances that Daddy can’t tell you about,” Inoichi deflected, sweating. 

He could already tell Ino wasn’t buying it. 

“But why?” she insisted, her lips pressing together exactly like her mother, her expression thunderous. “All the other kids don’t want to play with him either. They all said their parents told them it’s because he plays pranks too much... But it’s something complicated? What does that mean? Naruto is my friend! Aren’t we supposed to treasure the bonds with our friends? That’s what our clan emblem means—!” 

Her voice rose more and more as she went on, outrage overtaking the spark of suspicion. That was for the best, in a way, but Inoichi had no idea how to calm her. 

“I’m not saying you can’t ever talk to him again,” he tried, “but just don’t get too close...” 

“But why?!” 

Pursing his lips, Inoichi steeled himself. “Because I am your father,” he said in the firmest tone he could imagine taking with his daughter, “and I said so.” 

Ino’s mouth dropped open in shock and disbelief. 

They didn’t go to sleep for a long time that evening, and not before a good deal of shouting. In the end, nothing was resolved. Left alone in the dark living room, Inoichi could only bury his head in his hands and hope for the best. 

~.~

Days later, Ino was still angry. 

“Mom, I’m heading out!” she called out, slamming the front door open with more force than strictly necessary. She could just imagine her mother sighing to herself in the kitchen during the pause before the customary answer echoed back. 

“Have a good day, sweetie!” 

It was cold outside, trees standing bare without leaves and all flowers long buried under a dusting of snow. Since she was still too young to properly circulate her chakra and keep warm, she had to wear close-toed shoes during the winter, and it still felt weird and cramped. The scarf was itchy too, but if she took it off, she’d be sneezing in no time. Winter was awful, really. 

The usual group of kids that met up to play around town had been reduced by half, many of their playmates staying home either from being unwilling to handle the cold or having come down with the new bout of seasonal flu going around. When Ino arrived at their favorite playground, the few brave souls out and about were unenthusiastically messing around in the thin snow, rather depleted from several rounds of winter games already. 

“Ino!” Suzu called out, waving. “You made it!” 

Ino waved back, though her sulking expression made her friends chuckle awkwardly and leave her be. She hadn’t explained to them what happened, aside from saying it was a fight with her father, but they had all figured out that it was better to give her space to cool off. 

As she joined the group and their efforts in mindlessly packing together snow into something that might have been a sculpture or just a really big lump, the other girls resummed their easy chatter — mostly about the upcoming Rinne Festival and the gifts they were hoping to get. 

They were all a bit too young to be giving presents themselves yet, for the most part, but Ino had carefully prepared some pressed flower bookmarks for her parents. She was seriously considering withholding her father’s though. 

Unexpectedly, the peaceful chatter around her suddenly died down into a heavy silence. 

Ino looked up, glancing between the other children. Most of them were staring at their growing snow lump with studious, extremely artificial focus. A few were exchanging quiet whispers. And some... were sneaking surreptitious glances in a certain direction. 

Without bothering with any subterfuge, Ino turned to look too. 

Ah. Something panged in her chest when she caught a flash of orange at the edge of the playground. 

“It’s that boy,” Suzu said finally. She and a few others glanced at Ino. The question they wanted to ask was clear — would she make them include him again? 

“My mom scolded me for playing with him,” Mari muttered with unmistakable belligerence, even as she kept her head and her gaze down. 

“Me too.” 

“My dad too...” 

So what? Ino got scolded too! Because of “something complicated” that her dad wouldn’t even explain! What happened to treasuring bonds? Naruto was loud and kind of dumb, but he wasn’t a bad kid at all, and he always tried his best. Why was everyone so mean to him? 

It wasn’t as if Ino had considered him her closest friend or anything. They didn’t play together all that often, and they definitely argued a lot. But being told to stay away from him for no reason made her resentful on principle — especially after he had even helped out with Inoichi’s special project. 

Everyone was watching her. Everyone except Naruto, that is. 

He didn’t even look at them after arriving, already expecting the distance and refusal to play together. Had he not seen Ino, or had he just always known that one day her dad would get like this? Wandering over to a corner of the playground, he had begun stacking up his own, smaller lump of snow, his back to the other children. 

Even though he didn’t even look at her, Ino couldn’t help feeling an unrelenting sense of pressure. Her dad had been clear, he’d even yelled in the end when she refused to back down. She'd probably get punished if she didn’t listen. Naruto had some “special circumstances” and she wasn’t supposed to hang around with him anymore. 

It shouldn’t have mattered. They weren’t close, and Ino had plenty of other friends. And yet... 

And yet, the sense of pressure wouldn’t go away. 

If Ino just kept looking away here, it would probably never go away. It would just keep nagging at her forever. 

For the first time, she felt like she understood Shikamaru. It really was just so troublesome. 

But unlike him, Ino wasn’t a lazy bum. If it was such a troublesome thing, she’d face it head on, here and now! 

With a heavy, put upon sigh, Ino spun on her heel and took a step forward. 

“Ino-chan,” Mari called out, unexpectedly sharp. Looking over her shoulder, Ino could see the way her lip jutted out, unhappy but determined. “I don’t want to play with him. Mom’ll scold me again.” 

“Well, you don’t have to,” Ino said simply. 

She didn’t wait for a response. Stalking over toward Naruto’s corner, she grabbed him by the hand and quickly dragged him out of the playground. 

“Uwah! I-Ino?!” Naruto flailed at first, before falling into step with her, half-jogging to keep up. “What’s with you?” 

“Quit whining!” Ino shot back. “Aren’t you tired of making snow lumps already? It’s been a week straight of that! We should play something else.” 

“I was making a Hokage monument... with my face...” Naruto grumbled. 

Hokage again... Ino rolled her eyes. “Let’s go to your place,” she said. “It’s too cold out, and I want to see how your plants are doing.” And hopefully, if they stayed out of sight, it would take at least a little longer for her parents to find out about her disobedience. 

After a moment with no answer, Ino glanced over — only to find Naruto looking at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. It made her wonder if maybe he actually knew exactly what she’d been thinking and what had happened the last few days. Sometimes... Naruto seemed a lot smarter than he let on. 

The moment passed quickly. Naruto squinted, taking on his usual dumb look. 

“OK, fine,” he said. “But you better not complain about my laundry again. Or my ramen.” 

“Eat other things and I won’t complain!” Ino complained. 

Finally, that unrelenting pressure began to ease as they bickered lightheartedly, leaving Ino smiling even as she swatted at Naruto and chided him about some nonsense as usual. It felt right, and she couldn’t regret it at all — no matter how angry her parents would probably be. That was a problem for a future her. 

~.~

“Narutooo—-!” Ino yelled as she burst into Naruto’s apartment, the door slamming against the wall on her way in. 

She didn’t get much further, having to bend over to catch her breath. Her face burned with exertion, and sweat beaded uncomfortably under her scarf and winter coat, but it couldn’t be helped. Sneaking out on this day was tough, and she couldn’t be out for long, not before someone among the extended family members and friends milling around noticed her missing. 

“Quit just barging in!” Naruto grumbled. “You’re always like this! It’s my house!” There wasn’t much heat in his voice, unlike the first time they met. 

Without raising her head, Ino lifted one hand to wave off his complaints and to beckon him closer. In the other hand, she was still clutching a roughly wrapped and now slightly wrinkled rectangular package, too big for her coat pockets or even her little purses. One more deep gasp, and she straightened enough to hold it out to Naruto with both hands. 

“Here,” she said, still a bit breathless. “This is for you. Happy Rinne!” 

Naruto stared at her, then down at the object she proffered. There was no mistaking the intent — wrapped in off-white paper, with his name written, a bit clumsily but with obvious care, on the top. 

It was a present. 

“It’s... for me?” he wondered anyway, slowly pointing at himself. 

“Yeah, are you gonna take it or what?” Ino huffed. “What, haven’t you been given a present before?” 

“...No.” 

Ino blinked. “Oh,” she said awkwardly. “Well, you have now!” 

“Oof!” 

Fed up with his dithering, she shoved into his chest. Naruto caught hold of the package instinctively, only to immediately stiffen and clutch at it gingerly as if he thought it might bite him at any moment. It was a little sad, honestly, and Ino felt increasingly glad she hadn’t reused her father’s present like she’d initially planned. It had been a bit of a scramble to make a new one, but Naruto deserved something just for him. 

“You’re supposed to say thank you, you know,” Ino prompted, trying to break the uncomfortable atmosphere. It was just a small thing she’d made in a couple days. Getting this kind of response was really… too much. 

“O-oh! Yeah, uh…” Naruto mumbled, clutching the present to his chest and looking down abashedly at the floor. “Th-thank you…” 

“Great! Well, I gotta get going. I need to run home before anyone notices I’m gone,” Ino barrelled on. “See you later!” 

She rushed out without waiting for a reply, his front door banging shut after her. 

Naruto blinked at it in a stupor. Then, he looked down at the package —  _ present _ — he was holding and stared at that too. The paper Ino had used to wrap it was coarse and off-white, without any particular decoration. There was a stretched out, wrinkled section on one side where her hand had gotten sweaty while holding it during her rush over to Naruto’s apartment. The edges were crooked, and only a whole bunch of tape was holding it together still. 

From the shape and weight, it was easy to tell that she’d given him a book. Normally, Naruto had no interest in those things. He could only barely read, after a handful of lessons from the Sandaime, which generally ended with Naruto whining until he was released. However, this was different. 

Slowly, he pulled off each piece of tape and pushed the wrapping paper aside. 

The book was only a hand-me-down, a used copy of a basic encyclopedia of common plants. The Yamanaka clan had at least a dozen copies floating around, so Ino hadn’t worried about anyone noticing it missing. The book itself wasn’t even the point, though she had at least chosen one with plenty of pictures — Ino had just thought that giving Naruto only a handmade bookmark wouldn’t make much sense, since he didn’t have any books to use it in. 

Spine soft and worn with age, the encyclopedia easily opened onto where she had tucked the bookmark inside. It was a simple thing, with edges that were not entirely even despite Ino’s best efforts — just a piece of laminated paper decorated with a few pressed flowers and a short orange ribbon at the top. 

Ino had naturally wanted to make a meaningful combination, at the start, but she had quickly realized that it was simply not possible with the few things she had on hand. The only pressed flowers she had were those she’d prepared for her family’s gifts and the ones she gathered for herself, and almost all of those had meanings related to, well, love or beauty. Ino was that kind of girl, after all. 

She couldn’t give Naruto something like that, not that he’d know the difference. 

In fact, since he wouldn’t know the difference no matter what, why worry about the meaning? A stinky boy who blew off all her lectures about hanakotoba didn’t deserve a carefully crafted message! This was what Ino decided in the end. 

With his personality, some daisies would be good enough! 

Together with a  _ hagi _ bush clover flower, they made a simple but visually pleasing arrangement of gold and violet. 

There was a note as well. 

_ ‘This purple flower is my family’s crest. It means to treasure bonds,’ _ it said.  _ ‘The daisies look like the sun, so they’re perfect for you. So together, it’s like you and me! Happy Rinne Festival, Naruto! —From Ino’ _

Naruto spent a long while running fingers over the smooth plastic of the laminate, blinking quickly when his vision blurred and sometimes taking a short sharp breath to clear his nose. 

Technically, he had received presents before. But they had not been ‘given’ to him. 

On his birthday, some small gift would always appear on his table while he was out. That’s how Naruto knew when his birthday even was. Those had all been from the Sandaime, he guessed, usually a small toy when he was very small but just an extra envelope of allowance this past October. It had already warmed him down to the stomach to receive anything at all... but the feeling of being given a present directly really was different somehow. 

And it was a present made just for him, a present with a special meaning. 

‘You and me.’ 

Like friends. They were friends. He had a friend!

Beaming, Naruto clutched it to his chest. 

But finally, something very horrible occurred to him. 

“...Aaaaaaaaaaaah! I don’t have anything to give her in return!!” 

Naruto might have lacked in many areas where social matters were concerned, but even he understood that the Rinne Festival was for gift  _ exchange. _ It went both ways. 

“What do I do? What do I do?!” he panicked, his head whipping around left and right to look around his apartment in search of something that could make a suitable return gift. “Not there! Not there either! There’s nothing!” 

_ He was failing as a friend. _

He jumped to his feet, ready to overturn everything in search of a solution — only to yelp and scramble to catch the book that tumbled out of his lap. 

Fortunately, he was able to catch it before it fit the floor, cradling it awkwardly. A couple of the pages had gotten folded over, and Naruto smoothed them out with a level of care he usually afforded only to his plants. Ino had left the bookmark on the page for bush clover, he noticed for the first time, the same one as she’d used to represent herself — the Yamanaka clan emblem. 

His small fingers lingered over the drawings of purple and violet flowers, hanging down in long clusters like garlands. 

Suddenly, Naruto had an idea. 

A gift that only he could give. 

He’d have to do it at night, before anyone could stop him, but it would be just perfect—!

~.~

“Hokage-sama! Apologies for the disturbance!” 

As the Hokage, Sarutobi had no misplaced notions about something like taking the holidays off to relax. Missions did not stop on the Rinne Festival, and neither did the countless small crises that were part and parcel of village life. The Hokage had a duty, which could only end in death, it seemed. 

Still, he had at least hoped for a slower morning at home the day of the festival. At least the messenger had stopped to knock and wait outside the window, on the sloping overhang roof designed with that sort of thing in mind. 

Letting out a slow, quiet breath, Sarutobi set aside his calligraphy brush. It couldn’t be a major emergency, but it didn’t sound like a small thing either. “Report,” he called out, reaching for the cup of tea steaming on the low table in front of him. It was still a bit hot for his tastes, but he suspected he wouldn’t have time for it later. 

“Y-yes, Hokage-sama. It’s, well.. It’s something strange,” the messenger reported, unexpectedly lacking in composure. It sounded like even he didn’t know what he was reporting about. “The village is full of flowers!” 

Sarutobi paused, tea cup just short of his lips. 

Full of flowers? What did that even mean? 

Climbing to his feet with a sigh — his joints ached something fierce in the winter, no matter how good the heating — he made his way to the window and, sliding it open, leaned out to get a look. 

Although not a particularly tall building, the Hokage residence had a good view of the village from all sides. He didn’t need to see far to understand, in any case. 

It was indeed full of flowers. 

Much of the earlier snow had already started to melt, though his breath still misted lightly in the cold morning air. However, the branches of the trees were far from bare. Completely incongruous to the chilly weather and pale winter sunlight, green leaves and purple flowers hung down from most trees, on several roofs, and even along the sturdier festival decorations. 

Those were not the trees themselves suddenly sprouting new leaves and blossoms, but rather vines that had grown atop the trees. 

They certainly looked festive, but… 

Sarutobi stared at it all for a long moment. Then, he sighed again and reached up to massage the bridge of his nose. There were doubtlessly some in the village thinking of potential enemy action, of pollens and poisons, or security breaches. But the only thing he could think of was an old memory from when he was a young man and there was still only one face on the mountain. 

The day of little Tsunade’s birth, the streets had flooded with flowers, and the entire village had been treated to the spectacle of their Shodai Hokage being mercilessly berated by his brother for making a nuisance of himself. 

_ “But I can’t help it!” _ Hashirama-sama had laughed. _ “I’m just so happy! And isn’t it perfect to welcome her like this? Our little princess!”  _

He had thought it was just a small matter of chakra transfer, what Naruto was doing. Interesting, but hardly notable on the whole. But this… this was… 

What could it be, except Mokuton? 

Sarutobi sighed one more time, then turned to the messenger. “Inform the advisors, we will be meeting at their earliest convenience. Then let the jounin commander and the police chief know there is no cause for concern. Have them spread the word as necessary.” 

“Roger!” 

The chuunin vanished in a shunshin, but instead of leaves, what swirled around him were loose violet flowers. Sarutobi, about to head inside to pull on his formal robes, paused and watched as one petal fluttered into the tea cup he still held in his hand, settling on the surface of the pale tea inside. It spun slowly, setting off almost invisible ripples. 

Blowing gently to nudge it aside, he took a long drink. With a pleased sigh, he took a moment to savor the taste and the warmth. 

He wouldn’t have time for it later. Things were going to get very complicated from now on. 

~.~


	12. Mokuton, part 2 (with Tenzou)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters from here out, I actually wrote back in November, as part of Nanowrimo. But I lost motivation halfway through and never got around to proofreading them. Instead of just sitting on them, I'm going to post them now, but apologies for the typos and such.

**Part 3 (with Tenzou)**

It took all of Sarutobi’s not inconsiderable negotiation skills to convince his advisors — his old teammates — to let him speak with Naruto alone. The boy was barely six, not even Academy yet. What would be the purpose of putting him under the pressure of a full panel? No one had been hurt, and there was no real urgency. Whatever the truth, they certainly wouldn’t share it with the public anyway. 

The public rumors… Sarutobi made a note to himself to check that the Yamanaka clan wasn’t pulled into any trouble. He was, after all, the one who had involved Inoichi in this. 

Naruto appeared both rebellious and apprehensive as he was escorted into the Sandaime’s home office. When it came to pranks, the boy had never tried to hide his involvement — the opposite, really, boasting it shamelessly to any authority figure that would listen. But Sarutobi could guess that this had some other meaning as well, considering the use of the Yamanaka flower. 

A prank… just treat it as that for now. 

Carefully modulating his tone into exasperated scolding, he said, “You’ve really outdone yourself this time. Was covering the entire village really necessary?” 

Naruto’s mouth dropped open slightly in surprise, as this was not the reaction he had been bracing himself for. He rallied quickly, however, since it was something he knew how to deal with. 

“Of course it was! I gotta make sure everyone saw! Because I’m gonna be the next Hokage!” he declared, puffing up proudly. 

There was absolutely no logic in this string of statement, but Sarutobi just pretended to sigh. “And? How did you do it?” he asked. 

“I’ll never give away my secrets!” Naruto boasted proudly. However, his eyes were shining excitedly, and it was quite obvious that he wanted to be asked some more. After all, his pranks and outburst had always been about attention to begin with. 

“Oh? That’s a shame. It was quite impressive,” Sarutobi played along. 

Naruto lasted barely a handful of seconds, all but vibrating with excitement. “Okay! I guess I can tell you, since it’s you, Gramps!” he decided. “It’s the same as usual! I grew them myself, with chakra!” He’d learned to say it right, finally. “I snuck out suuuper early this morning, when it was still dark! And then I went around and grew them everywhere! First I had to use the trees and make ‘em change, but then I figured out how to just make ‘em from the start. Cool, right?” 

“Mm, very impressive,” Sarutobi repeated, carefully keeping his reactions controlled. 

Inwardly, he sighed. He just “figured out” how to jump from mutating existing plants to creating them from pure chakra… There was no point in even being surprised anymore. 

“Then, can you show me?” he asked instead. 

Even as Naruto beamed and agreed, the old Hokage made another note to himself. He’d need to teach the boy not to show off this skill so readily. Until he was a trained shinobi, capable of defending himself, this talent would have to remain a hidden trump card. It would be far too dangerous for Naruto otherwise. 

It was hard to say whether it had been Mokuton itself that had made Senju Hashirama an unstoppable force on the battlefield, or if his Mokuton had been so overwhelming because the man himself was a living god. But his unique jutsu were inexorably tied to his legend — a legend of power that remained highly sought after even decades after his death. 

Numerous lives had been sacrificed for the chance to recreate it. A naturally occuring specimen… there was no telling how far some would go. 

“Here you go, Gramps!” Smiling like the sun, Naruto held out a fistful of white and yellow daisies. “They’re like me, right? That what, uh, I heard!” 

Not in meaning, Sarutobi supposed, but in their cheerful simplicity. 

He accepted the flowers with a melancholy smile.

~.~

His old teammates hadn’t left, waiting nearby while he questioned Naruto. Homura and Koharu had at least settled in with a cup of warm tea each, a facade of calm hiding their tension. But Danzo remained like a looming shadow by the window, staring out across the village — still in vigorous bloom, despite the cold that lingered in the pale winter sunlight. 

“So? Is it Mokuton?” Koharu asked, as all three of them turned to regard Sarutobi upon his return. 

He deliberately took a seat before reply. “It is and it isn’t,” Sarutobi said, sighing. “The technical nature is… complicated. I will need to think on this more, but I have a theory.” 

They didn’t interrupt him, at least, while he gathered his thoughts. All of them recognized the Professor, who had made his name with his encyclopedic knowledge of jutsu and his analytical thinking, on par with even their respected teacher, the Nidaime. 

“In regard to Hashirama-sama’s Mokuton, we’ve always believed it to be a bloodline trait based on advanced nature combination,” Sarutobi began, slowly formulating the theory that was still turning over in his mind. “Like combining water and wind natured chakra to create ice, he combined water and earth chakra to create wood. But I think we may have been looking at it wrong all along.” 

Mokuton was unique and appeared only a scattered few records before Hashirama, to the point where they had never been sure if it was even the same ability in those legends. Hashirama himself had been someone who acted by instinct — what else could he do, with no one who could teach him? All their understanding of Mokuton on an academic level came from Tobirama’s theories. But they had been just that — his best guesses, based on his observations but still woefully lacking in foundation. 

“Kinoe clearly combined water and earth as well,” Danzo pointed out, the wrinkles on his face deepening as he frowned. 

“Yes, that is certainly what Hashirama-sama did. However… I don’t think that’s all it is,” Sarutobi said. “It’s not well known, but there is another bloodline that combines water and earth. It is Deiton, mud release. Unlike Mokuton, it passes correctly between parents and children and functions as any other advanced nature transformation. There is no other case like that, that I’m aware of, where combining two elements creates two completely different advanced natures.” 

Even the many variations of Yoton were a different matter. Although Yoton could take on many forms — molten rock, volcanic ash, corrosive mud or quicklime, or even a form of rubber — any user of Yoton could employ all of them, depending on their personal inclinations and preferences. They were entirely separate bloodlines. 

Deiton’s users had certainly no access to Mokuton, and although Sarutobi knew little about Deiton’s techniques, he didn’t believe Hashirama had been able to employ them either. 

“Hashirama-sama was strong in earth and water both, like most of his clan, so he used those two natures as a medium. But I believe there must have been something else he added to his jutsu to create Mokuton — a third element,” he said slowly. 

“Something like Onoki’s kekkei touta?” Homura wondered. 

“I don’t think the third piece is an elemental nature,” Sarutobi said, absently rubbing his thumb over his pipe. He huffed, shelving those — fascinating — thoughts for the moment. “In any case, that is the difference between what Hashirama-sama did and Naruto-kun’s ability. Naruto doesn’t have any particular affinity for Suiton or Doton. In fact, he can’t use either, or any nature transformation at all. Instead, I think he might be using a form of Yang release… But he is nonetheless able to materialize plants of various shapes and sizes. It is Mokuton, but not Hashirama-sama’s Mokuton.” 

“But,” Danzo emphasized, “it  _ is _ Mokuton.” 

The words were like a stone dropped into a pond. A branch snapped underfoot in silence. 

“...Yes,” Sarutobi agreed. “It is.” 

Mokuton had been more than just trees and branches, of course. The ability to suppress and absorb chakra, Hashirama-sama’s extreme vitality and regeneration… those had been also considered part of Mokuton, and Sarutobi had not seen a way to subtly test Naruto for those in such a short time. 

But even so. Even without those things. Even with just trees and branches.

It was a powerful symbol. To see Mokuton on the battlefield again, in Konoha’s hands... 

Sarutobi’s lips twitched in a mirthful smile. Naruto’s dream was perhaps not so distant at all. For Mokuton, even a bijuu was no obstacle, after all. 

Koharu let out a heavy breath, Homura echoing her. “Well then, we will need to consider the boy’s future carefully,” she said. 

And here, the battle began. 

“I can train him,” Danzo said immediately. “I trained Kinoe. I will ensure his loyalty and obedience to Konoha.” 

“Your Root works from the shadows, and that boy ended up the same,” Homura said, adjusting his glasses and deliberately not looking at either Danzo or Sarutobi. “It would be quite a waste, all things considered. We must think of the future in the long term now, not just how to survive the next struggle.” 

“Still, he must be trained,” Koharu said. “We don’t know how to make use of a jinchuuriki, and pressuring a child doesn’t seem to have done Suna much good. That power is too unstable, so leaving it aside for the time being seemed the best choice. But Mokuton is a different matter. It can and should be nurtured.” 

Homura frowned. “If he has Mokuton, then will he have control over the bijuu?” 

“That is all the more reason to see to his training,” Danzo said. 

“It is hard to say. The seal will always be the foremost, in any case,” Sarutobi said, addressing Homura instead. “I also agree that we should arrange training for Naruto. Since he is able to freely use it, he should be trained. However, our knowledge of Mokuton is too sparse. Much of his growth will ultimately come down on his own ability to improvise and experiment. A more… rigid training regime might only hamper him in the long run.” 

“Yes, Hashirama-sama’s power was a wild thing, wasn’t it?” Homura mused. There was even a hint of a smile, echoed by Koharu, despite her steely gaze. 

The memories of their youth always brought forth a shadow of their old bond and their old camaraderie, and it was tempting to fall back on it. But Sarutobi knew things could never be so simple between them again. 

No matter how outwardly cordial, this was a struggle to determine the future path of the village and what kind of place it would become. 

The future of that child would determine Konoha’s fate. 

It was a strange thought. 

“Then a tutor?” Koharu suggested. “Though we will need to select them carefully, consider their background and ties… It is a position that will give them, and anyone associated with them, unprecedented sway in the future.” 

With a twist of his mouth, Danzo nodded, conceding. He had realized that this was not something the other two would give him. Koharu’s words were almost too pointed — on the surface implying that someone from a greater clan would have too much to gain, but also saying the same about the possibility of Danzo himself as the teacher. 

However, there was a certain glint in Danzo’s eye, a stillness right before he went on the attack, that prompted Sarutobi to speak up quickly. 

“I believe Tenzou would be the best choice,” he said. 

He could guess what Danzo would have brought up — the bush clovers and the Yamanaka. Sarutobi had no interest in giving him the opening to drag down a reliable, loyal clan, just to muddy the waters of their political discussion. It was better to open this topic instead and address it directly. 

“Well… he’s certainly an obvious choice,” Koharu said. 

“He should of course have a part,” Homura agreed, “but he’s quite young, isn’t he? And his results have been… below expectations.” 

Those expectations were extreme and unreasonable, of course. Taken on his own merits, Tenzou was a skilled and reliable jounin — now that Kakashi had helped him leave Root. His age was best estimated at seventeen. Young, but not that much younger than some jounin sensei, including Minato, who had taken a team at nineteen. 

“Since Naruto-kun doesn’t seem to use any nature transformation as a base, we can’t train him in that. I will look into any records regarding Yang release and what Naruto is doing personally, but for now, the best training to give him would be general chakra control and a sense for how Mokuton can be used at scale,” Sarutobi said in the kind of neutral, academic tone that made it difficult for others to disagree. “I have confidence that Tenzou can do so. The other aspects of Naruto’s training can be handled by the Academy.” 

“He hasn’t started yet, has he?” Homura confirmed. 

“He’ll be starting in the spring.” 

“The Academy’s curriculum is quite relaxed at the moment,” Koharu said. She did not sound approving. 

“Naruto’s year has many children of clan heads, so the same system should work for him as well — general training at the Academy, specialized training at home,” Sarutobi said. “In that sense, someone young like Tenzou and with a clear connection to Naruto through Mokuton is a good choice.” 

“In other words, they would simulate a clan,” Homura said. He steepled his hands, his glasses catching the light. 

Sarutobi raised his eyebrows slightly, replying mildly, “In regard to the finer points of Mokuton, they will only have each other to discuss with. If they can grow closer in the future, I don’t see an issue with that.” 

However, he knew he had more or less won. What Homura wanted was a symbol for the village. He had liked Minato’s fame and popularity as much as his actual skills. He wasn’t wrong, of course. A village needed heroes, and Mokuton would fit that perfectly. But for Naruto to take that role, he would need to live openly, not in the shadows of Root or Anbu. Schooling with the heirs of several clans and potentially a genin team with them were a good foundation for that. 

Compared to that, letting Sarutobi select the tutor, especially a choice that was indeed quite obvious, was a concession he’d make willingly. 

On the other hand, what Koharu wanted was a strong power. An open one as well, a clear deterrent, but with skill over popularity in the village. 

“We have time now to nurture the next generation properly, with care,” Sarutobi said, glancing at her. “Part of creating a solid foundation is making sure Naruto feels comfortable with Mokuton. He should see it as natural, something he is well familiar with. It should be what he falls back on instinctively, rather than… other abilities.” 

The Kyuubi. He didn’t need to say it for them to all know. 

After all, Naruto was a jinchuuriki. This was an inescapable fact. 

And although Konoha had always had a jinchuuriki, they knew very little about training one. Mito and Kushina had been vessels that sealed the Kyuubi. They did not employ its power, relying instead on their clan’s seals and their Adamantine Chains. For all appearances, they had been ordinary if talented kunoichi. 

However, Minato had used a different sealing method on Naruto, and the results were likely to be different as well. Jiraiya had hypothesized that Minato’s intent was for Naruto to draw on the Kyuubi’s chakra and use it for himself. 

Judging by the jinchuuriki of other nations… the chakra of a bijuu came most readily under emotional duress, and it was filled with deep hatred, often driving even otherwise stable jinchuuriki into a frenzy. 

That was why even Koharu, who wanted a powerful weapon, had ultimately sided with Sarutobi and agreed to put off Naruto’s training until he matured, back after the attack. 

What lay under Sarutobi’s words was a simple point. 

Naruto was more valuable for his Mokuton than the unknown, unstable power of the Kyuubi. But he was still a jinchuuriki. Putting excessive stress on him, especially emotionally, was a gamble with potentially disastrous consequences. 

Koharu huffed and waved her hand. “Always so soft,” she scolded — but it was a clear concession. 

And as long as the other two were on his side, the battle was overwhelmingly in Sarutobi’s favor. 

Over the years, Danzo had gained too much self-control to scowl, but the cold annoyance and disdain was still clear in his furrowed brow. He had never been a gracious winner. 

~.~ 

Milling around in the Anbu locker room was far from the best way to achieve… much of anything, but Tenzou hadn’t been able to think of anything else. It wasn’t like he could go to Kakashi’s apartment, for something personal like this, without even a mission directive as an excuse, and hunting him down at the memorial stone seemed like an even worse idea. Neither of them had been the social sort to begin with, so striking up a conversation in passing was also out of the question. 

And since they were no longer going to be attending the same briefings… 

Staking out the locker room it was. 

Fortunately, it wasn’t long before Kakashi appeared. In fact, he had most likely guessed Tenzou’s thought process and came on purpose. 

“Yo,” he greeted with a lightness he didn’t usually show within the Anbu building — while on duty, which… Tenzou supposed he wasn’t anymore. He didn’t pretend not to understand or make smalltalk. “Shall we take this somewhere a little more private?” 

In his own way, he was a very reliable senpai indeed. Tenzou nodded gratefully. 

Although heavily monitored, there were plenty of corners in the Anbu headquarters that were precisely out of range and thus perfect for a bit of gossiping. Tenzou had not quite worked up the nerve or social ease to make use of them himself — still too distant from his teammates, much less anyone else — but he was aware of their existence. They could have easily made use of those, but instead Kakashi led them outside, into the chilly winter sunlight. 

They strolled around through one of Konoha’s many wooded areas, somewhat more desolate than usual at the moment, with the trees standing bare. Tenzou endured it with the patience of someone who had dealt with Kakashi for several years already until, finally, his senpai opened the discussion. 

“So, is this about the Hokage’s summons yesterday?” he asked. 

It was unsurprising that he was aware. Having no family or close friends outside the force, they had been two of the few on standby during the Rinne festivities, and the Hokage’s message had not been secret in and of itself. It was hardly unheard of for a specific Anbu to be summoned alone, but… 

“Yes, that’s right,” Tenzou said — and found himself uncertain how to proceed. 

Kakashi glanced at him and mercifully continued. “I was notified that you’ve been limited to in-village duties, indefinitely,” he said. As a good shinobi and a good Anbu, he would have accepted that without any question, but he was certainly at least a little curious. 

“Yes… Hokage-sama gave me permission to discuss it with you,” Tenzou said. “I’ve been assigned to… tutor someone.” 

It was enough of a surprise to make Kakashi draw to a stop. Although his expression, what part of it was visible, remained carefully controlled, Tenzou thought he could see the thoughts rapidly connecting behind his eyes. Kakashi was a genius and a fine ninja — the pieces were all there. 

No one had missed the sudden blooming flowers around the village, and it certainly hadn’t been Tenzou doing it. Now, Tenzou himself was being pulled from any external missions to “tutor” someone… 

In other words, there was another Mokuton user in Konoha — or something close enough. 

Kakashi understood all of this in moments, but he didn’t ask. “I see,” he said simply. He smiled, his visible eye sliding into a crescent. “Well, I’m sure you’ll be a fine teacher.” 

Whether that remark was intentional or just a standard nicety, Tenzou couldn’t guess. But it cut right down to the heart of the matter. 

“I’m not so sure,” he blurted out in a rush. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you, Kakashi-senpai. I was only ever taught by… my prior commander, and I don’t know if Hokage-sama would approve of those methods. I don’t know whether they’re good or bad, and I don’t know how to handle a child especially, so…” 

Coughing awkwardly, Kakashi looked away. “I wasn’t at the Academy for even a full year, you know,” he said. “As for this kid, it depends on their circumstances. Where they came from, what background they have, their current skill level… Are you only training them in ninjutsu or something else too?” 

“That…” Tenzou paused, thinking over the Sandaime’s… briefing, which had been uncomfortably informal and full of vaguely phrased generalities — and not the sort Anbu dealt with. Unable to formulate an answer, he skipped over that point for the moment. “General skills will be handled by the Academy,” he said instead. “He’ll be starting in the spring.” 

“Young and untrained, huh. But that makes it easier,” Kakashi mused. “You only need to handle the specialized ninjutsu training. Molding chakra, forming seals, nature transformation, there isn’t much that can go wrong there. Just don’t yell and don’t hit him.” Stroking his chin, he added, “Tying him up should be fine though. Maybe don’t give him lunch and eat something in front of him. Kids are weak, he’ll cave to that. Also, don’t worry if he cries a bit. Kids cry easily.” 

“They do?!” 

“They do,” Kakashi said very calmly. 

“I didn’t,” Tenzou said without thinking, his expression uncharacteristically troubled. Unlike before, the words tumbled out in a rush. “I know I wasn’t a normal child, but this boy is, more or less. He’s not an experiment or anything like that. He’s been living a normal life in the village until now. I just… don’t know if it’ll be alright.” 

Not that Uzumaki Naruto was normal as such. Ironically, the Hokage himself had needed to explain the nature and existence of the Kyuubi jinchuuriki to Tenzou, shortly after he joined the proper Anbu forces, since Danzou had not considered the information pertinent to any of Tenzou’s assignments. It had been a rare exception to the gag order involving what really happened six years before, at the Kyuubi attack and the Yondaime’s death. 

However, he had lived a far more normal existence than Tenzou, who couldn’t even remember his own family or original name, whose first memories were watching the other test subjects die around him. 

“Unfortunately, I can’t tell you much either,” Kakashi said, smiling again. 

“...Oh. Of course, my apologies,” Tenzou realized. 

Kakashi waved it off. “If it helps, you can look at it this way —” he said, “this kid isn’t going to live a normal life anymore. With that kind of power, it won’t be possible for him. Considering the options, you’re the best choice to teach him. And you’ll do well. Because you’re a good kid too.” 

Reaching out, he ruffled Tenzou’s hair with one hand. 

It was an unexpected gesture that left him gaping for a moment, before a flush crawled up his neck under his high collar and across the tips of his ears. 

“Kakashi-senpai!” Tenzou protested, both mortified and indignant. 

He was already sixteen, and though that might have made him still a kid to some, Kakashi was not that much older at twenty. 

Chuckling, Kakashi pulled out his usual trash book, now that the conversation had finally taken a lighter note. With a huff, Tenzou tried to subtly smooth down his hair, but he couldn’t deny feeling better about his new assignment — and also pleased at the rare compliments. 

“Hokage-sama said he wanted us to train together,” he mused. “That I would tutor him, but we would also... learn from each other?” 

It had been one of the confusing vague statements that had peppered the briefing. 

Kakashi made a sound of acknowledgement. “Having a power no one else has makes you isolated,” he said, “even without any other barrier. And when you feel you are alone, it’s easy to lose your way. It’ll be good for this kid to know there’s someone like him.” 

That was true. After meeting with the Sandaime the day before, Tenzou had spent the rest of the day fixating on the specifics of his new assignment and trying not to panic. But now that he let himself consider it more calmly, there was… a not unpleasant feeling at the thought. 

The Hokage had said their abilities were not exactly the same, since Naruto didn’t use nature transformation as his base, but they were almost certainly the same at the core. 

There was someone like Tenzou. 

He smiled, the sense of dread that had plagued him shifting to make room for a small quiver of anticipation. 

“Thank you, senpai,” he said earnestly, unconcerned when Kakashi only lifted a hand in acknowledgement, nose buried in his book. No matter how lax his attitude at times, he was indeed a reliable senpai. Tenzou could only hope he could become the same to little Naruto. 

With a swirl of dry leaves, he vanished from sight. 

~.~

Naruto had stayed inside since his visit to the Sandaime’s residence. It wasn’t that he felt he was in trouble or forbidden from going out, precisely, but despite Sarutobi’s efforts, he had noticed that the Hokage’s reaction was somewhat off from usual. 

Even though he enjoyed showing off and bragging about his special skill, Sarutobi had been just a little too focused in his interest. Naruto didn’t think he’d ever had the Hokage’s full attention in that way, the old man always a little distracted with his many responsibilities and worries when they talked before. 

He didn’t really understand, but Naruto instinctively sensed that something had been different, and it put him on edge. 

Restless, he had spent the day checking on his plants and leafing through the book Ino had given him, not even trying to read the words. Every time the sound of a door slamming on another floor or footsteps outside reached him, he would freeze and listen, completely still, until whoever it was disappeared into their own apartment or out onto the street. 

But eventually, two pairs of steps stopped outside his door. The steady, unhurried knocking followed. 

It was the Hokage, but he wasn’t alone. And, somehow, Naruto didn’t think it would be Yamanaka-jisan with him. 

“Naruto-kun,” Sandaime called out from the other side of the front door, his voice muffled. “We’re coming in.”

“Y-yeah!” Naruto called back, quickly shoving Ino’s book under his pillow and scrambling off the bed. 

There wasn’t a specific reason to hide it. But… 

Old man Sarutobi looked the same as always when he stepped inside — swathed in his Hokage robes, calm and esteemed, like nothing could make him panic or rush about the way other shinobi did. An unfamiliar ninja followed him, dressed in the standard uniform but with a fancy faceguard. Naruto squinted at him in interest. Was he a guard? 

The stranger smiled tentatively, making Naruto’s eyes widen before he looked away quickly, his heart skipping in surprise. Adults, even small ones, didn’t usually smile at him. 

“Naruto-kun, this is Tenzou,” the Sandaime introduced them. “He’ll be tutoring you in ninjutsu from now on — since you have so much energy to spare, we might as well put it to more constructive pursuits, wouldn’t you say?” 

His tone was dry and quite casual, making Naruto relax a bit. 

He’d caused trouble, so now he was going to get punished with studying. That made sense. 

The only remaining point of uncertainty was… the “tutor.” 

Since the old man Hokage had brought him, he couldn’t be one of the really mean adults. He was barely an adult at all, only a teenager, but younger didn’t necessarily mean nicer. Naruto snuck another peek at him, fidgeting when he found Tenzou looking back. At least he wasn’t wearing a cold or, worse, disgusted face. That was a good sign. 

“Hello, Naruto-kun,” he greeted him. Still smiling, he went down on one knee, putting him closer to eye level with the boy. He had a plain face that didn’t reveal anything about him, but it wasn’t a bad thing either. “We’ll be studying together from now on. I hope we get along.” 

“Oh... um, me too,” Naruto agreed. 

As he watched with interest and quickly diminishing caution, Tenzou held one hand palm up. Naruto’s mouth dropped open as a spot in the center of that palm twitched and suddenly extended upward, twisting to form a small tree branch, topped with bright, fresh green leaves. 

“Whoa!” Exclaiming excitedly, Naruto grabbed Tenzou’s hand and examined the miniature tree he’d created. “You can do that?!” 

“You can too,” Tenzou pointed out. “Right?” 

Drawing back a little, Naruto looked thoughtfully down onto one of his own, far smaller hands. His forehead screwed up in concentration as he tried to will a plant to emerge with just the power of his burning gaze. Chuckling, Tenzou reached out and pressed one finger to the soft skin in the center of his palm. He didn’t do anything else, but that was enough to concentrate Naruto’s still shaky powers — when he pulled away, a tiny leaf sprang up where he had touched. 

Naruto laughed, looking between Tenzou and the Hokage for approval... even though he had already done far more than that with his Mokuton before. 

“Good job,” Tenzou praised all the same. 

Making a sound of satisfaction, Sarutobi nodded along as well. 

“It seems you’ll do well,” he said, to both of them. “Then I won’t interrupt your first lesson any further. Make sure to decide how often you want to meet and when. Naruto-kun, don’t be late. It’ll be rude to your tutor.” 

“Okay, I got it! Bye, Gramps!” Naruto called out distractedly — all his attention on Tenzou, and the fun new thing he could teach him. 

Keeping up a smile, Tenzou tried not to react to the nervous drop of sweat that ran down the back of his neck. He could do this, he assured himself. It was just training. He could do this, he would do well. 

Both the Sandaime and Kakashi had said so. 

He wouldn’t let them down. 

~.~ 

Their first lesson didn’t actually cover much. Rather than teach Naruto anything, Tenzou had the boy show him what he was capable of — strengthening existing plants, for the most part, but also growing some new ones, when he was able to concentrate enough. As Sarutobi had said, the method Naruto used was different from Tenzou’s, but the feeling was the same, unique in a way Tenzou had never noticed before. 

Aside from that, they also talked a little, mostly about Naruto’s collection of houseplants, his favorite places around the village, and his daily life. 

Somehow, this led to Tenzou taking him out for ramen. 

It was good ramen, at least, though the stall owner had definitely shot Tenzou a rather judging, suspicious look before Naruto excitedly explained that the Hokage had appointed him as his tutor. 

“It’s good to get an early start,” the Ichiraku owner, Teuchi, said. “So what are you going to be learning?” 

...Had anyone told Naruto he wasn’t supposed to speak too openly about his Mokuton? 

“Ninjutsu,” Tenzou interrupted as smoothly as he could. “Naruto-kun has a special ability that Sandaime-sama thought should be cultivated individually.” 

He had meant it as a general, ambiguous statement, which confirmed nothing and could be interpreted in any number of ways down the line. It was only when Teuchi’s expression momentarily shadowed and his lips pursed minutely that Tenzou realized that, with Naruto’s situation, there was one very specific interpretation that naturally came to mind first. 

However, it was convenient in a way, if their training was assumed to relate to the Kyuubi. No one would risk digging deeper into something like that. Tenzou hesitated, uncertain whether to clarify the misunderstanding. 

“Gramps finally realized how talented I am!” Naruto bragged boisterously. “He better watch out! I’m gonna get super strong and steal the hat from him!” 

Teuchi laughed. “I look forward to having the Fifth Hokage as a customer!” he said. “How about a free bowl to celebrate your new teacher?” 

“Yeah!!” 

Naruto was already four bowls in. How much was he planning to eat? Where was he putting it all? Tenzou eyed the stack of empty bowls on the counter, mentally calculating their volume and comparing it to Naruto’s — not particularly notable — body size. His hands itched to lift the boy up and check his weight. Was it really increasing as it should? Or was the food just... being burned up as soon as it went in? 

The fact that he was going to have to pay for all but the one free bowl was a concern, but a small one. Anbu pay was not insignificant, and Tenzou had hardly spent any of it even after two years on the force. 

He complained about Kakashi’s occasionally mooching outside missions mostly for the sense of banter and camaraderie it gave him. He had seen many in the Anbu bicker like that, and it felt nice, even if he could never hold out properly against his senpai before his deep respect and desire to please kicked in. 

It was only after they separated that Tenzou considered that perhaps he was supposed to have walked the boy home. 

But he had already been living alone for a while and running all over the village as he pleased. Surely it was fine to let him go home alone? 

It was fine. He wasn’t doing badly. There was no reason to worry. 

Instead, Tenzou focused his thoughts on figuring out a lesson plan. 

Since there was no nature transformation component for Naruto, the only things they could train were chakra control and manipulation of wood itself. For chakra control, there were a number of basic exercises that Tenzou had already started compiling from his own memories and from a number of other sources. For Mokuton itself… 

There were two main aspects, in a sense — growing wood from one's body, or manifesting it at a distance. Naruto’s most often used method of altering existing plants could be considered a simplified preliminary step to both. Of the two, manifesting wood at a distance — jutsu such as Mokuton: Tree Wall Barrier or Deep Forest Emergence — were more grounded in nature transformation, in Tenzou’s experience. He wasn’t sure how they would work for Naruto. That meant it would be simpler to start with growing wood from one’s body. 

Obviously, Naruto was capable of it. So they could work on size, speed and shape, to turn a basic ability into a mission-ready skill. 

That kind of hands-on training would work well for an active boy like Naruto, Tenzou thought, please with his planning. 

Of course, no matter how prepared he felt, reality never went according to simulations. 

“But it’s boring! I don’t wanna!” Naruto yelled, dragging his vowels and raising his voice in a distinctly whiny pitch. “Why do I gotta keep doing the same thing? I wanna learn something new!” 

There was no way around it. Only a few training sessions in, and Naruto was throwing a tantrum. 

Tenzou’s initial impression had been that Naruto was excitable and eager to learn, and that wasn’t entirely incorrect. However, Naruto was only excited to learn new things, tricks and abilities he hadn’t seen before. When it came to practicing those things to increase his skill at them, the situation was quite different. Growing tree branches out of your arm the first time was cool, but doing it a hundred times? Boring. 

Boring — but necessary. 

You can’t master something without repetition, Tenzou had tried to explain. Even if it was boring, it had to be done. And if Naruto was too young to understand that, then he made it quite clear that he wouldn’t teach him anything new until he was satisfied with Naruto’s efforts. 

Naruto hadn’t liked that. To put it mildly. 

While Tenzou understood the general point — repetition was dull — he didn’t understand why Naruto couldn’t just do it and get it done. Wasn’t that obvious? If you dislike something, then finish it quickly. Liking or not liking didn’t matter in what was unavoidable. Tenzou himself had never even considered just... refusing to do what he was told either. It seemed to come down to some basic difference in their personality. 

It probably didn’t help that Naruto was naturally quite gifted. He easily understood the basics of Mokuton, so the early stages of every technique went smoothly and quickly. Because of that, he hadn’t learned how to struggle to progress, and any roadblock or extra effort made him want to give up. 

That was fine. He was still a young child. 

But how was Tenzou supposed to teach him these things? 

This was much more complicated than just overseeing ninjutsu exercises. And it wasn’t as if Tenzou could make him do something he didn’t want to. Or at least, not easily. Despite Kakashi’s advice, he didn’t want to resort to withholding food this early in. If he started that already, how would he escalate later on? 

“I’m giving you this assignment as your teacher, Naruto-kun,” Tenzou tried, putting on his sternest face. “Are you saying you won’t obey?” 

It wasn’t entirely uneffective. Naruto blanched, going completely stiff and leaning away. He was only a step away from cowering, but he refused to back down. Jutting out his lower lip and furrowing his brows, he glared back. It was somewhat undermined by the fact that he looked near tears all the same. 

“No! I don’t wanna!” Naruto declared. 

Tenzou made a vague sound of acknowledgement. “Very well. Then we’ll end here for today,” he said. 

That was not what Naruto had been expecting, leaving him momentarily speechless in surprise. 

“We’ll resume the day after tomorrow — the same exercises. We won’t be moving on to anything else until you complete a full set,” Tenzou warned him, making the boy’s expression drop immediately. 

They were going to fight about it again next time, he could already tell from the way Naruto scowled and crossed his arms. However, that gave Tenzou two days to figure out a new approach. Sighing inwardly, he disappeared in a swirl of leaves. 

Since Naruto didn’t attend Academy yet, there was nothing in particular to dictate their schedule, nor did he have any social obligations, but Tenzou had decided to set their training to three times a week, on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. It was structured and easy to remember, and it had the benefit of teaching Naruto to remember what day of the week it was, something that it turned out he had never really bothered with before. 

It also gave Tenzou time to think between their lessons and gave him more freedom to reschedule if there was a conflict with his much reduced but still present duties in Anbu. 

When he received this assignment from the Sandaime, he had been moved to taking missions only within the village. It was a broad status that generally meant that the shinobi in question had some other responsibilities that they couldn’t leave for extended periods, or some personal issues. Generally, they would continue to carry out patrol or guard duty rotations while also being on call for any internal investigations. It wasn’t quite a demerit, but it was certainly a reduced workload — taking it easy, in a sense. 

Team Ro — Kakashi’s team, which Tenzou belonged to — was one of Anbu’s top teams, and they were rarely given the simpler assignments of patrol or guard duty. While their missions were not exclusively outside the village, that was where most of their work took place. That wasn’t going to change just because of Tenzou. 

He hadn’t been officially removed from the roster, but… at the very least, he was no longer privy to their external missions. 

It felt odd, at best. It probably felt quite a bit worse than that, actually. The person now called Tenzou had been in Root or Anbu almost his entire life. Life without the structure of missions and reports was just too empty and uncertain. He didn’t think he had ever worn the standard uniform this much before, or spent this much time in public places. 

He almost wished he’d made the lessons daily, if only to give himself more to do. But with the clash in their personalities, he could imagine it wouldn’t go well. 

Tenzou sighed again, slipping a note into Kakashi’s locker. 

He supposed he could have gone to the Sandaime for advice. There had been something like that mentioned. But the very idea made something inside him shrivel up. Admit he couldn’t carry out a simple mission? Waste the Hokage’s time with something like this? Impossible. He might as well declare himself useless and resign as a shinobi. 

Fortunately, he received a response the next day. He had been leafing through more teaching books at a civilian bookstore — since shinobi manuals all either believed that every child should be immediately eager to become stronger (and there was thus nothing to discuss) or else you should just beat sense into your students, literally — when he sensed a familiar presence approach and stop in the same aisle, seemingly perusing the offerings on the other side. 

“A sudden interest in the origins of the soul, senpai?” Tenzou asked mildly, shutting the book in his hand and sliding back onto the shelf. 

Kakashi chuckled. “Yo,” he greeted somewhat belatedly. His visible eye crinkled happily. “I take it the tutoring isn’t going well?” He sounded quite amused by that. 

Tenzou sighed. 

“I’m in the mood for yakiniku,” Kakashi provided helpfully. 

Of course. Tenzou had thought in retrospect that, the previous time, his captain had been uncharacteristically accommodating. It must have been because Kakashi hadn’t known whether the matter was serious or not — a personal summon to see the Hokage, especially after the strange incident of the Rinne flowers, looked quite unsettling to paranoid shinobi minds. 

But now that it was clearly just personal troubles, there was no such thing as shame in Kakashi’s vocabulary. 

What a reliable senpai. 

“I’ll be counting on my reliable kouhai~” Kakashi beamed. 

Tenzou sighed and made his peace with taking a hit to the wallet — again. 

~.~

“—And he just keeps, keeps nagging! It’s all ‘you have to  _ practice, _ otherwise you can’t become a ninja!’ It’s all practice, practice! It’s boring!” 

Naruto complained loudly, kicking at the damp piles of old leaves and branches that had been revealed under the melted snow. The overturned mass was pretty gross, but he barely paid attention, simultaneously waving his arms around in anger to blow off some steam. He’d been ranting for a while and had already repeated himself at least three times, but Ino only nodded along, making vague sounds of agreement. 

“...I thought he was cooler than that,” Naruto finished rebelliously, finally winding down. 

“Right?” Ino agreed, not entirely attentive as she studied the dark, muddied areas he’d kicked over — for any new sprouts. “It’s always like that with adults. They nag all the time and aren’t cool at all. My dad is just like that too. So much meditating,  _ all the time… _ urgh.” 

Naruto didn’t reply right away. Crouching next to her, he started to prod at the overturned mulch with a stick. 

While Ino was an outgoing girl, she was still fairly sheltered due to her young age. Most of the adults she’d met were from her clan, or family friends, or at most friendly shopkeepers who greeted her on her errands. They were indeed prone to giving her advice and nagging about how to do this or that. It was something that came from their warm feelings toward her, but it certainly made Ino think they were “uncool.”

But when Naruto thought of “adults” as a whole, he didn’t really think the same way. Adults were the people in the village, who were mean, the opposite of cool, and might have scolded him very often, but in a very different way than the nagging they were talking about. 

Naruto understood that difference. It was one of the many things that were different between them because Ino had a family. 

“...So your dad nags like that?” he wondered, not looking up from his digging. 

“Yeah! My whole family too,” Ino said. “Mom’s always nagging about chores, and my aunts and uncles are nagging about becoming a proper clan heir, and the elders are the worst! Nothing’s ever good enough for them!” 

“So families nag like that...” Naruto muttered, mostly to himself. 

“Guess so,” Ino agreed. “Shikamaru always complains too, and even Chouji said his mom’s like that.” 

‘A family...’ Naruto thought. 

He’d never had anything like that. A dad, a mom, aunts and uncles, even clan elders... he couldn’t even really imagine it. What was it like, having someone like that? How did they act? How did it feel? How different would his life be? 

Warm, he’d always imagined vaguely. Like having someone waiting for you at home. Someone to walk with you to the store, holding your hand. Someone to make food for you and help you clean and do your laundry. 

But also someone to nag a lot, it seemed. 

“Oh, look! There’s one!” Ino exclaimed, pointing to a tiny green sprout just barely poking out of damp dirt and mulch. 

They crowded over it excitedly, pressing together. “What is it?” Naruto wondered. 

“I can’t tell,” Ino admitted, pouting. “Maybe it’s a snowdrop...?” 

The rest of the afternoon was spent the same way, before Ino had to rush back home before the early winter sunset. Naruto didn’t remain out too much longer either, since it was quickly getting colder. However, he couldn’t help lingering a little whenever he caught sight of a family passing by on the street, heading out to eat or heading home after having fun outside. 

They all looked very happy, like always. Looking away, Naruto hurried back to his apartment. It was dark and cold, since he had been out all day and there was no one else there to keep it lit and warm. Flicking on the lights, he moved over to examine his plants. 

The leaves under his fingers weren’t warm, but the chakra humming faintly through them was still nice. 

It was something that only he could sense and touch. Or rather, only he and Tenzou-sensei. 

Twisting his lips into a pout, Naruto turned away. 

~.~

Since it would be somewhat inconvenient if just anyone stumbled on their training, Tenzou had booked a training ground for their use three times a week. He had picked one that was heavily forested, naturally, but also out of the way. Perhaps too much so, on the latter. In the future, that would be no issue, but since his student was still so small, Tenzou had so far taken the precaution of picking up Naruto at his apartment and walking him to the training ground. 

Given how their last meeting had ended, Tenzou felt an undeniable sense of awkwardness as the time for their next training arrived. He had considered just waiting at the training ground, but couldn’t do it at the end. 

Heaving a sigh, he raised his fist and knocked at the now familiar worn front door. 

There was a pause before it opened and Naruto peeked out through the crack. He didn’t call out cheerfully like usual, but at least he wasn’t glaring or openly sulking. Tenzou pasted on a smile. 

“Shall we go?” he said. 

Naruto nodded, still silent, and after pulling away to put on his sandals, slipped out onto the walkway next to Tenzou. Their feet automatically carried them along the now familiar route, but the silence was deeply awkward and stilted. Tenzou despaired a bit, behind his placid mask. 

He still had no idea how to proceed. Kakashi had, after food, flattery and some hemming and hawing, given advice, but Tenzou was increasingly unsure whether that advice was actually usable. Not to say that he doubted Kakashi, as such, but he had never been a normal child nor did he have any experience with such. The tactics were sounds, but... Tenzou just felt like he wouldn’t be able to report to the Sandaime that he had hung Naruto from the tree and refused to feed him until he cooperated. 

Kakashi had said it was fine as long as Naruto didn’t cry, and even if he did, that was fine too, since he was just a kid. 

But Tenzou... didn’t really want to do anything that might make his young student so upset. He really was still just a young boy, and he didn’t deserve to be seriously punished just for acting out because he didn’t know better. 

“Hey, so...” Naruto unexpectedly broke the silence that had dragged on once they reached the training ground. Scuffing his shoe against the barren ground, he refused to look at Tenzou. “Why... why are you nagging about training so much?” 

“Ah. Well, that’s because it’s necessary,” Tenzou said. “It will give you a strong foundation, so that you can become a splendid shinobi in the future.” 

“So it’s to help me?” Naruto mumbled. 

“That’s right. It might not seem like it, but it’s for your own sake.” 

Naruto hummed but didn’t ask anything else immediately. Watching and waiting, Tenzou struggled to keep his expression mild and open, all while sweat broke out along the back of his neck. 

What were these questions? Was he answering them right? 

What if he got it wrong? This felt like his life — or at least their future as teacher and student — was on the line!

Finally, Naruto let out a gusty, put-upon sigh.  _ “Fine,” _ he dragged out. “I’ll do it!” 

...Eh? 

Oh!

That was good! That was good... right? 

Naruto wasn’t playing a prank of some sort or messing around. Just as he’d said, he obediently moved into position and began to repeat the exercise Tenzou had given him. It was obvious he bored of it quickly, his kiai exclamations taking a rather dull tone within a few repetitions, but he persisted on to complete the full set. 

When Tenzou praised him for it, Naruto beamed, back to his usual good spirits. 

“Here, see how much you’ve improved just from doing it this many times?” Tenzou said, crouching next to him. “When you started, you could only grow it about this much,” he explained, holding his hands apart about as wide as Naruto’s shoulders. “But now...” 

The last time Naruto repeated the exercise, he’d managed to extend his rough Mokuton spikes at least twice the length of his arm. 

His mouth dropped open in surprise as Tenzou’s words sank in. 

“And if you keep practicing, you’ll get even better. It’s like that for all jutsu and techniques,” Tenzou said. “Understand?” 

Head bobbing up and down frantically, Naruto agreed, “Yeah! I get it!” 

Truthfully, Tenzou thought this point should have been obvious from the start, but perhaps that was part of the issue. He needed to be clearer in his teaching and to account for the difference in their knowledge and backgrounds. 

Naruto had been told to do and not to do a lot of things without being given any reasons that made sense. It had been like that his entire life, sometimes because of the secrets involved in every aspect of his existence and sometimes because almost everyone around him viewed him with impatient disinterest or outright antipathy. 

He didn’t expect adults or their orders to make sense, and he didn’t have any trust toward them. He wasn’t an obedient child, but why would he be? 

That was why, just as Tenzou had thought, patience was the key. 

Training didn’t go perfectly smoothly from there on, of course. Naruto was still not used to focusing for long periods of time, but Tenzou thought he could understand how to deal with that better now — when to adjust the number of repetitions down, when to call a break, when to give him an encouraging word. It wasn’t as simple as setting an Anbu trainee to a task, but it wasn’t bad either. Rather than just a mission, it felt like something he could take pride in, as proof of his ability as a teacher. 

It wasn’t something he had been trained for, in Root or Anbu, and it wasn’t something he had ever been intended for, as a tool of the village. But somehow, that just made it even more important. 

He was able to live up to the Sandaime and Kakashi’s expectations. 

And Naruto’s happy smile was also... 

Very good. 

“You did well today, Naruto-kun,” Tenzou praised him, as they wrapped up for the day. “How about we get some ramen?” 

It was an impulse decision, and Tenzou already knew that, no matter how cheap a food ramen was, between Naruto and Kakashi, Naruto was the bigger hit to his wallet. That child could put away a truly bewildering amount of food at any time. Even so, it was worth it. 

Surprisingly, Naruto slowed after only two bowls. While still putting away his noodles at a steady pace, he began to glance at Tenzou occasionally, something clearly on his mind. 

Once the third bowl was finally empty, he sat quietly for a moment, fiddling with his chopsticks. 

“Hey,um...” he started. “Mokuton... it’s that blood thing, right?” 

“Kekkei genkai,” Tenzou corrected obligingly. “A bloodline limit, an ability that is passed down through families. Well, that’s how it’s been classified until now.” 

Whether or not it really was as such, it was hard to say. The Sandaime had told Tenzou about his theories and about the possibility that they had misunderstood the nature of Hashirama’s power. Certainly, it hadn’t passed down to his children or any of his descendants at all. It wasn’t something he had inherited from any known ancestor either. 

Could it still be considered a bloodline trait in that case? Tenzou didn’t know, and he didn’t think it would help trying to explain that to a young child, so he had stuck to the traditional definition of Mokuton. 

Naruto hummed thoughtfully, studying Ichiraku’s counter with intense focus. 

“So then... are we related?” he asked. 

Tenzou opened his mouth and found himself completely lacking an answer. “I... don’t think so,” he said finally. “I don’t remember my parents, but...” 

“Oh. Me too,” Naruto said. 

In fact, his parentage was quite clear. No one had any doubts where Uzumaki Kushina or Namikaze Minato had come from. It was the opposite from Tenzou, who could at least guess that his family had been no one notable... most likely, he had been an orphan, a child whose disappearance would go unnoticed by anyone. 

“But that means we don’t really know, right? We could be,” Naruto went on. 

“It is, but the chances of it are low,” Tenzou said. 

“But we  _ could _ be,” the boy insisted, glancing at Tenzou — and then quickly looking away again. “So... do you wanna?” 

“Pardon?” 

“Do you wanna?” Naruto repeated. His voice dropped to a barely intelligible mumble. “You know... be... family...”

Tenzou’s mind blanked. 

“Ah...? Oh,” he finally let out. “Um.” 

This string of noises correctly conveyed what was in his mind — absolute chaos. Half-formed thoughts warred with each other, refusing to line up into anything that made sense. 

Some genin teams were like families, he’d heard of that... mostly from those who had lost theirs. A teacher for a day is a father for life, as a saying goes. No, he definitely wasn’t ready for that kind of responsibility! He wasn’t that old! Mokuton didn’t pass on to children in any case, so his children wouldn’t be connected to him like this. Could someone like him even have children...? A family was like putting down roots, a true connection that couldn’t be erased, but there weren’t any families in Root because that was precisely the kind of bond that had to be sacrificed for the village, so—!

So. So... 

While he dithered, frozen in a panic, Naruto’s face had grown more and more scrunched up and he progressively curled in on himself. Even Teuchi had stopped in his practiced motions, watching with silent dread as the drama played out. 

“—Fine! Forget it—!” Naruto finally snapped. 

“I’m too young for that! I’m not that old!” Tenzou blurted out in the same moment. Immediately, he wanted to facepalm. Why was  _ that  _ the thought that came out? 

The two of them stared at each other. 

“...I think you’re pretty old though,” Naruto said bluntly. 

Teuchi laughed awkwardly, leaning forward to break the atmosphere of building misunderstanding. “Now, Naru-chan,” he said, chuckling, “don’t say that. Tenzou-san isn’t an oji-san, right? He’s still young.” 

Stroking his chin, Naruto studied Tenzou with narrowed eyes. Suddenly, all the good-natured — and sometimes not so good-natured — ribbing from his teammates about his terrifying stiff face came rushing back, and Tenzou broke out in cold sweat. 

“R-right! I’m a nii-san, right?” he said quickly. 

Unexpectedly, Naruto’s eyes widened, gaining an excited shine. “So you agree?” 

Huh? Oh. 

Agree to considering themselves related, he meant. Since they didn’t conclusively know they weren’t, they could decide to consider the slim possibility of it as the truth. 

It was a thin excuse. No matter that Mokuton was called a kekkei genkai, it was obvious they didn’t inherit their abilities from the same source. And their only other connection was as student and tutor — who had only shared a handful of lessons. They were barely above strangers. 

But. 

In Naruto’s life, that made Tenzou one of the three adults closest to him. 

And while he would be able to make friends around his own age, an adult figure beyond that small group was not likely to appear in his life until he was assigned a jounin sensei after graduation — though for that, the Sandaime would certainly choose someone suitable, just as he had assigned Tenzou. 

‘I hope the two of you can become close,’ the Hokage had said when he gave Tenzou this mission. 

Even if he didn’t know anything about families, neither did Naruto. Even if he didn’t know anything about how to be someone’s family, it wasn’t like another big brother would appear out of thin air for Naruto. And compared to nothing at all, wouldn’t his efforts be worth something? 

After all, for himself, even their small connection was already precious...

He had been thinking about it too long again, and Naruto’s excitement had begun to slack, his expression drooping. “...You don’t want to...” he guessed. 

“No,” Tenzou said. “I want to.” 

Smiling, he patted Naruto on the head. 

“From now on, I’ll be your big brother, how about that?” he went on. “Oh, but only outside training. When we’re training, I’m still your instructor. ...W-wait, why are you crying?!” 

~.~

3 months later. 

The avenue leading to the Academy’s entrance was packed with parents and children, the air filled with voices. Soon, the entrance ceremony would begin, and many of the adults were taking the opportunity to mingle, while their children wiggled excitedly and tried to run off, only to be held back every time. Even the cold, scornful looks toward Naruto were toned down compared to the usual, no one too willing to raise a fuss when the Hokage himself would be arriving shortly. 

Even so, it was... a little intimidating, to be surrounded by so many people. That had never been a good experience for Naruto. 

He hadn’t realized that his hand had tightened as his nervousness mounted, until Tenzou squeezed back gently. 

They didn’t usually hold hands — since neither of them had much experience with that kind of thing — but this time the possibility of getting separated in the crowd had prompted it. To be perfectly honest, Tenzou didn’t feel particularly comfortable either, having interacted very little with the general shinobi forces, much less their retired or civilian families, but he hid his unease with practiced ease and offered Naruto a small smile. 

“Now, do you remember what Hokage-sama said?” he prompted the boy. 

“That I should keep my Mokuton a secret for now, so I can get better first and look really cool when I show everyone the first time,” Naruto repeated in a dull tone, his discomfort immediately overtaken with boredom and annoyance at the point that had been raised a bit too often recently. 

“You understand, right? When you spar with your classmates, you can’t pull it out even if you’re losing,” Tenzou pressed. “You have to be careful, so you don’t use it out on reflex—”

“I get it already! I get it!” Naruto complained. 

“OK. Then you’ll be fine,” Tenzou said. “And if there’s anything you don’t understand, we can go over it together.” 

Not that Tenzou had any experience with the Academy curriculum either, but it couldn’t be above his abilities. ...He hoped. 

Naruto beamed in response, even as he insisted, “I won’t need any help! I’ll be top of the class, you’ll see! And then I’ll become Hokage!” 

With all the activity, the crowd around them didn’t maintain the usual bubble of distance that Naruto was afforded in public, though still not quite pressing in. Several people glanced over at his loud exclamation, some looking away just as quickly, some sneering scornfully. Naruto at least pretended to ignore them all, and Tenzou only smiled placidly. 

He didn’t think that was likely — the top of the class part — given Naruto’s deep antipathy for all bookwork, but he had learned that saying so didn’t accomplish much. Sometimes, Naruto liked to say things just to psych himself up. 

Of course, if he did make it, he would need a big reward. 

A week of ramen? No, two weeks? 

As Tenzou pondered this, the wall of people in front of them wavered, and a small arm shoved its way through — followed by a small girl in a cute but now rather wrinkled outfit. 

“Naruto!” Ino called out, waving while simultaneously struggling free of the crowd. Finally, the press of people parted, letting her stumble loose. 

“Ino!” Naruto waved back with even more energy. “Ino, look! Look! This is Tenzou-niisan! He’s my nii-san!” 

“OK, nice to meet you, Naruto’s nii-san,” Ino agreed with obvious amusement that went over Naruto’s head. “Come on, my parents are trying to talk to, like, everybody, so they won’t notice I snuck off. I’ll introduce you to Shikamaru and Chouji! Shikamaru’s boring, but Chouji is nice…” 

“Ah, a-aah, wait—” 

Dragged along into the crowd, Naruto glanced worriedly back over his shoulder. Seeing Tenzou smile and wave him on, before disappearing in a shunshin, set his sudden uncertainty at ease. 

‘You’ll be fine.’ 

He had been told that several times, by the old man Hokage, by Tenzou, and by Teuchi at Ichiraku. Finally, he felt like he might be starting to believe it. 

He had a friend. He even had someone who was like family. 

It really would be… just fine. 

~.~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Tenzou is 26-27 in Shippuden, so I’m putting him as 10 years older than Naruto (though it might be 11, depending on which specific databooks it came from). So he is 16 here. 
> 
> -Deiton (Mud Release) is canon from one of the Shinden novels. The stuff about Yoton I fudged. There’s multiple forms of it, and some characters do use more than one, but we don’t have a clear explanation about it. 
> 
> -I am using mostly the JP terms for the nature transformations since they’re shorter and catchier, but I decided to go with “Yang Release” despite the inconsistency because the romanization is… also “Yoton” and it’s not very clear what it actually is. No one else cares, probably, but I do! 
> 
> -I completely forgot that Naruto’s apartment front door is actually outside, not in a corridor. His apartment is also jutting out in a weird way, so he has only maybe one neighbor. 
> 
> After this, there would be a timeskip to Academy graduation and genin teams, though I actually have not decided on teams in this AU. In any case, since this is a collection of story ideas and not a full story, I will probably stop here. I think Naruto having a friend and a brother figure is a nice note to end on :) 


	13. Obirin+KK, soulmates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not too please with this one. It kind of meanders a lot and doesn’t actually use the soulmate concept properly. The problem is that I didn’t actually have any plot beats planned past the first scene and it came back to bite me later lol
> 
> Also un-proofread

According to the Nidaime’s research, “soulmates” were two people whose chakra was naturally synchronized. The first observable sign of the synchronization was at the birth of the younger partner, but Senju Tobirama had theorized that perhaps the connection began to form in a nascent state even prior to that, at the source of chakra, wherever that might be. However, his theories on that front were vague and inconclusive due to lack of any evidence or data. 

Depending on the nature and strength of their connection, “soulmates” could transfer chakra between them, including elemental specializations and even bloodline abilities, and also share thoughts and feelings. In some cases, they could experience the other’s sensory input and gain a general idea of their location. 

It was, in many ways, similar to the kind of connection a ninja would share with their solid clones, adjusted for the other party having their own chakra signature. It was, in theory, a useful strategic asset, if properly applied. 

There was, according to his dry records, nothing mystical about it. 

He had probably been a very joyless person. 

Of course, during his time, soulmates had been seen as more a curse than a blessing among shinobi. The pair were rarely part of the same clan, after all. Anyone with a soulmate would have been considered a spy in the making, and most clans had required members to find and kill their soulmates to prove their loyalty. 

It was lucky that soulmates were such a rare thing. Even in Konoha, there were only a single digit number of pairs at any time. 

Obito and Rin were one of those pairs. They’d know it from the moment they met, before even Academy. 

Though... they hadn’t told anyone. 

For Obito, he had already been too distant from the Uchiha clan, who had always been strange about feelings and bonds. He had been genuinely afraid that the clan would separate him from Rin, so keeping silent was the obvious choice. And for Rin... there hadn’t been anyone to tell. Father dead in the Second War, mother constantly away on missions. Oldest brother already dead as a genin, second older brother preoccupied with Academy. And all of them unable to even share a meal without constantly seeing the ones who were already gone. 

It was easier to just keep quiet. It wasn’t like it really mattered, if Rin could use a Katon with unexpected strength, or if Obito could pull off a half-way decent healing jutsu in a pinch. Even sharing their strength, they were both just too ordinary, too unremarkable. 

...It did matter. It mattered so much, to them. 

It mattered because Rin knew the exact moment Obito awakened his Sharingan.

The genjutsu that had been placed on her unraveled instantly. Of course it would be like that. After so many years of clinging to each other, training together, molding chakra together, their connection was strong enough that even the Uchiha kekkai genkai could be shared. Opening her eyes and knowing they were an unmistakable red, Rin kept her head down, her hair covering her face. She could feel it flicker out after a moment, as well. 

Communicating concrete thoughts over a distance was too difficult, but she could feel the echo of Obito’s determination and the mix of fear-anger that accompanied battles. He was always projecting, that headstrong idiot. Carefully bundling up threads of warmth-faith-calm, Rin pushed it toward him. 

She didn’t really feel calm, naturally. But panicking and agitating Obito wasn’t useful. 

There was only one presence in the cave, and the man was already distracted, too focused on the movements outside, where Obito was fighting. He hadn’t noticed yet that his genjutsu was broken, but it wouldn’t be long. 

Alone, Rin didn’t have much chance against him, much less with her arms bound. 

...They didn’t bind her feet though. They didn’t even remove her weapons. 

“Dammit, those brats couldn’t have gotten him, could they?” the Iwa nin muttered to himself, glancing toward the cave entrance. Keeping her shoulders completely still, Rin used the opening to slide a kunai out of her pouch and begin severing the rope around her wrists. 

The opening would come when Obito — and Kakashi? — entered. Once the Iwa nin moved to engage him, she could make a break for it using the battle as cover, she decided. 

That was the plan, but... 

“Tch! This is taking too long,” the Iwa nin snarled, stepping closer — and abruptly grabbing a handful of her hair. 

As he wrenched her head up, Rin frantically considered the pros and cons of attempting to catch him in a genjutsu of her own. His skill was certainly above hers, but the Sharingan could cast extremely strong genjutsu on eye contact… but she didn’t have any idea how to do that. There was some general carryover in skill between soulmates, but  _ Obito _ didn’t know either.

And if she gave herself away as more of a threat than a potential asset… 

She only had moments to decide, before he noticed that she was conscious. Rin’s heart pounded, even as she forced herself to remain limp in his painful grip. 

The Iwa nin let go, leaving her to drop back onto the hard ground as he spun around to peer at the cave entrance. Two figures had appeared there, silhouetted by the light. They both came, Rin thought with a strange, complicated feeling. Even Kakashi… 

‘Thank you,’ she thought. Not just for coming to save her too, but also for being there to watch Obito’s back. 

“I can’t believe this. He actually lost to two brats like you?” the Iwa nin snarled, already stepping away from Rin and toward her teammates. With a sharp sound, the arm blades in his sleeve and gauntlet shot out, ready. “But you’re not getting any further!” 

“You’re the one who’s not getting any further! It’s over for you!” Obito. 

“Be careful, he’s a high speed type!” Kakashi. 

Rin opened her eyes again, although all she could see from her awkward position on the ground was the long shadows across the cavern wall. Silently, with minimum wasted motion, she twisted her wrist and pulled the kunai through the ropes binding her arms in a single move. As the cut coils slipped off her, she shifted to get her legs under her, the sounds of the nearby battle covering the quiet crunch of small stones under her feet. 

A faint tremor from Obito’s side let her know he was aware of her plan. A deep breath — and Rin burst into motion, sprinting headlong toward the cave entrance. 

It was tempting, as she passed him, to stab a kunai into the Iwa nin’s thigh, but she held back the impulse. Putting herself in reach of him for even a moment longer, element of surprise or not, was just raising the chance of making herself a liability again. 

“You bi—!” the Iwa nin snarled as she darted past him. He instinctively moved to stop her, his senses and reactions so much faster than she could manage. 

“Rin, GO!” Obito hollered, tackling him just before his blade could reach her. Kakashi, a touch slower without Obito’s foreknowledge, joined with a follow up attack. They moved together better than Rin had ever seen before. 

She didn’t want to be left out either. 

Ten steps of distance, halfway to the cave entrance, and she twisted around. Without stopping, she sent the kunai still in her hand flying. She wouldn’t have dared normally, not when her teammates were in the thick of it as well — but she could see it all clearly, every movement, and she could predict where the boys would be in the next moment. She knew where they would be, and where she had to aim not to hit either of them. 

Once she was out of his immediate range, the Iwa nin had dismissed her from his mind. After all, she was only a weak medic, who had been easily captured and who could only flee to avoid getting in the way. Although he was still able to detect her attack in time, it cost him a precious moment in the midst of battle to react and twist away — a moment he couldn’t afford, against the Yellow Flash’s team. 

“Now, Kakashi!” Obito called out, managing to grab hold of the Iwa nin’s billowing sleeve and drag him off balance. 

There was no answer, at least not in words. Instead, the deafening sound of chirping birds reverberated through the narrow cave. 

Without hesitation, Kakashi drove his arm, wreathed in lightning chakra, into their opponent’s chest. 

In the sudden silence that followed, the man’s last wet gurgle was clearly audible. Ripping out his arm, covered to the elbow in blood, Kakashi let his body drop to the ground unceremoniously. There was no time for mercy on the battlefield, they had already learned. 

Still, both boys paused, looking down at their opponent’s corpse, caught up in their own thoughts. 

“Come on, you two!” Rin called out. “We should go.” 

She held out her hand out of habit, but unexpectedly, Obito hesitated when reaching to take it. First, glancing back, he grabbed Kakashi’s hand and pulled him along. Outwardly, Rin smiled, but mentally she sent a questioning fluctuation toward him. Obito made a face, radiating reluctance and embarrassment. It seemed like something had happened while she wasn’t there... but they could talk about it later. 

The first priority was getting out of there and finishing their mission. Together, pulling each other along, the three of them hurried toward the sunlight. 

~.~

Their mission was a success. It had been a race against the Iwa reinforcements, even after Rin’s rescue, but they had made it in the end. 

“Congratulations, Captain,” Rin said to Kakashi, smiling, while they waited for Minato-sensei at the rendezvous point. She had finally been able to check the boys over and, despite Obito’s best attempts at first aid, there was unfortunately nothing to be done for Kakashi’s eye. While not crippling, it was still the kind of injury that would hamper his abilities, but Kakashi only shrugged when she gave him the news, cool as always. 

“Congratulations,” Obito echoed. His tone was still somewhat unwilling, and he hesitated a split second before adding, “Captain.” 

But he had said it at all, and that was better than when they’d set out. When she mentally nudged him, Obito just radiated annoyance and embarrassment, giving the impression of crossing his arms, sticking out his bottom lip and turning away from her pointedly. Rin smothered an amused giggle. 

Cute. Aggravating at times, but cute. 

Kakashi only ducked his head, his shoulders stiff and hands clenched in his lap. He seemed to be bracing himself for something, making Rin and Obito both turn to look at him with the first faint stirring of concern. “Rin, I…” he started. “Back then, about coming to get you, I… I…” 

Oh. Even if he couldn’t say it, Rin understood. They had been a team for four years already, after all. 

Smiling a little wryly, she reached out and laid one hand over his clenched fists — at the same time as Obito let out a sharp huff and clapped a hand onto his shoulder. They spoke at the same time too. 

“It’s okay.” 

“Forget it!” 

‘We did it again…’ They probably shared the same thought too, exchanging a look around Kakashi. This happened fairly often — that their reactions followed the same rhythm, even if their emotions were different. 

“Kakashi, I understand,” Rin said, taking the lead. “It’s alright. I wouldn’t have held it against you, no matter what happened.” 

“You came to help us in the end, and that’s what matters,” Obito said. 

Kakashi let out a shaky breath. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “But from now on, I’ll be a proper team captain. You can count on me.” 

For some reason, that prompted another round of squirming from Obito. “And I’ll, gh, be a proper teammate too,” he said, coughing and looking away awkwardly. He turned even further to the side when Rin raised her eyebrows at him questioningly. What was all this, really? 

Apparently sensing the by-play, Kakashi sighed and rolled his single visible eye. “I’m going to check the perimeter,” he declared. He didn’t add, but it was heavily implied — ‘Talk it out while I’m gone.’ 

‘Sorry,’ Rin mouthed, catching his gaze for a moment. Kakashi waved off her concern, then ducked out of the small cave that served as a waypoint for Konoha missions in this part of Grass. Once his footsteps had faded, she turned to Obito expectantly. 

“I think he’s on to us,” Obito said. He rubbed the back of his neck, still avoiding Rin’s eyes. “Some of the stuff he said when we were coming to get you. I’m pretty sure he knows we’re soulmates.” 

Rin blinked. That wasn’t what she’d expected. In some ways, she’d forgotten that Kakashi didn’t necessarily know already. 

...As expected of a genius. He’d figured it out just by observing them… 

“Is that a problem?” she wondered. 

It had ended up being a secret, but it wasn’t something they absolutely had to hide, especially not now that they were chuunin — independent adults in every meaningful sense. If someone tried to separate them, they’d be able to fight against it. 

And that was assuming Kakashi even told anyone except Minato, who was quite likely to be willing to keep a secret, if necessary. 

“Um, no. I guess not…” Obito admitted. “But I, uh, I told him it’s not just because you’re you. And that I’d go back for him too, if he was the one who got captured.” 

Rin nodded. Of course, that was self-evident. 

“We’re teammates,” she agreed. 

“So,” Obito said, “since I said it, I have to act it too.” 

Understanding washed over Rin, and she struggled to contain a wide smile, her eyes twinkling merrily. Even so, she knew Obito could sense her mirth, echoing back exasperation and more embarrassment. 

“And that means,” he went on, raising his voice, “being nice to Kakashi! I have to be  _ a good teammate _ now!” 

“Pfffft—!” Unable to hold back, Rin began to laugh. 

Clutching her stomach, she doubled over — though at least she still had the presence of mind to at least muffle her laughter. Even without seeing him, she knew Obito was making a face at her, but she just couldn’t stop. 

He sounded so serious about it. He had said that he would, and that was as good as a promise, so now he would live up to it in full. No matter how embarrassing or frustrating, he would absolutely do it. Something like leaving them as just words didn’t even occur to him. Obito often ran his mouth, all talk without the strength to back it up, but he came through when it mattered. That was something Rin loved about him. 

That was how Kakashi found them when he returned — Rin still snickering to herself, while Obito sulked exaggeratedly. Staring at them, he appeared to dearly wish he could turn around and walk out again. 

Unfortunately, he was stuck with them. 

They were a team, and that too was a bond that couldn’t be easily severed. 

~.~

Kakashi, it turned out, was not prepared for everything that being Obito’s teammate entailed. He managed to last almost a week, before reaching the end of his rope. 

For the last four years together on a team, the two of them had settled into a certain pattern of mutual distance. Kakashi criticized Obito for his unprofessional conduct, and Obito snapped at him for his lack of cooperation and tolerance, but otherwise they stayed out of each other’s way for the most part. On missions, they most often clearly divided the work, and outside of missions, they never interacted at all. 

Although both Minato and Rin sighed helplessly about this state of affairs, Kakashi had largely found it acceptable if not ideal. In fact, it was an improvement over his prior teams. Obito might have whined and pointlessly competed against Kakashi but, since they were about the same age, at least he didn’t have an annoying fixation of expecting obedience just by virtue of being older. It would have been nice to have a more mature and reliable teammate, but Kakashi had thought being teammates like that was fine. 

Just because Obito and Rin were joined at the hip didn’t mean Kakashi needed or wanted to be the same. Besides, those two were almost certainly more than just teammates, or even friends. 

Not every team was close, and not all teammates were friends outside of missions. Wasn’t that obvious and natural? 

But of course, Obito... did  _ not _ think like that. 

Apparently, as far as he was concerned, teammates needed to be close. Being teammates “for real” seemed to equal being friends, in his mind. And not just casual friends. The kind of close friends that trained together, went out for meals together, talked all the time, and even visited each other’s homes unannounced and uninvited. 

The first time Obito and Rin barged into his house without warning, Kakashi had been left completely speechless until it was too late to kick them out. Because, yes, Rin was perfectly willing and even excited to go along with it. 

“But I brought snacks!” Obito insisted the second time — only two days later — somehow sliding his way inside despite Kakashi’s best efforts to block the doorway. The proffered grocery bags contained nothing but junk food and instant ramen, even though Kakashi  _ knew  _ Obito was perfectly capable of actual cooking. 

Rin, who showed up ten minutes later, brought a board game. 

They just... kept talking to him. In the morning, while they waited for Obito. During missions, when they were traveling or waiting for the client or doing anything repetitive enough not to need their full attention. In the afternoons, when the team should have dispersed. They even followed him to his previously solo training sometimes. 

It was worse than Gai. At least Gai went away if Kakashi beat him at whatever innate challenge he came up with. Rin and Obito were always around. 

He’d thought Obito was overly loud and talkative before, but Kakashi realized now that he had been getting the equivalent of a cold shoulder. Now... now, Obito kept talking even if Kakashi didn’t respond or, worse, even if he got fed up and said something snappish. He was always standing or sitting close too, and sometimes Rin would sit on the other side, boxing Kakashi in. 

And it wasn’t like they were trying to pressure him or get on his nerves. They were always smiling warmly, and... He really just... didn’t know how to handle it. 

There hadn’t been anyone constantly there like that since his father. 

And even Sakumo... he had been a high profile jounin with countless missions. Kakashi was used to being alone. 

The last straw was when he came home from training to find that Obito and Rin had just let themselves into his house and taken it upon themselves to set up the kotatsu. The scent of cooking food wafted over from the kitchen. Their happy chatter broke off as Kakashi stepped inside, and the two of them turned to beam at him in unison. 

“Welcome back!”

“Welcome home, Kakashi!” 

They called out at the same time, as if it was somehow their place to say that to him. 

Maybe they thought it was. Kakashi could imagine them doing that with each other… although, come to think of it, he wasn’t sure whether either of them lived alone. Regardless, did they understand that teammates were a different matter from soulmates? 

Or… he didn’t think he had been wrong in his deductions, he was absolutely sure they  _ were, _ but maybe it wasn’t even a matter of being soulmates for them. Maybe they were just like that with everyone they cared about. Who could tell, when they didn’t have anyone except each other? 

_ “It’s not about that! I’d got back for you too — because we’re comrades!” _ Obito had declared. 

And those who abandoned comrades were lower than trash. 

So now that they were comrades... 

Kakashi dropped his face into his hands. 

“Tired?” Rin wondered, sounding horribly, genuinely worried. 

“Stomach ache? Did you eat something weird?” Obito guessed. “If you gotta puke, then— come on, Rin, I’m just joking!” 

“Why are you in my house,” Kakashi muttered, not looking up. 

“Well, it’s not like you come over to ours,” Obito complained, his voice rising and with an obvious tone of rolling his eyes. “So of course we have to come!” 

Oh, was that how he wanted to play it? Dragging his hands down to reveal his single eye, Kakashi leveled a cold glare at the idiot. “Fine,” he said flatly and shortly. Challenge accepted. He wouldn’t back down. 

Without any further words, Kakashi stalked into the kitchen and set about rummaging in the pantry and fridge. It was, after all, his turn again. 

...His motions paused for a moment as he realized just how much he’d already gotten used to those idiots. 

He definitely wouldn’t lose. He’d make them regret it. He’d beat them at their own game!

If it was going to be like that, Kakashi decided, he might as well kill two hawks with one kunai. He had always Obito’s lateness to be nearly intolerable and Rin’s insistence on coddling him about it just as bad. But if Obito wasn’t capable of managing his own time, then wasn’t the obvious solution to just drag him out of bed and to the meeting point on time? 

No, an hour early. It was the least he deserved. 

With that in mind, Kakashi set out bright and early the morning of their next team meeting. His destination — Obito’s house. 

He had been there a time or two before, to deliver some small bits of information Minato had asked to be passed along among the team, and he didn’t have any trouble finding his way. Jumping onto the ledge of the second floor bedroom window, Kakashi mercilessly hammered at the wooden frame. 

With a yelp, Obito tumbled out of bed. 

“WHAT?!” he demanded a moment later, throwing the window open almost — but quite — fast enough to hit Kakashi. 

“Get up, we have a team meeting,” Kakashi shot back. 

“That’s not for three hours!” 

“Then I guess you’ll be early for once.” 

Despite everything, Obito was a... somewhat competent chuunin, and even while grumbling, he was soon ready to head out. His face when Kakashi shoved a ration bar into his hands and dragged him out the door was priceless and completely worth it. 

Obito’s house was at the very edge of the Uchiha clan’s district, and they moved with surprising yet also somehow irritating alacrity to leave it. But once they were back into the village proper, Obito’s pace gradually slowed until he was ambling along leisurely, no matter how Kakashi tugged him along and shot him scornful looks. 

“Obito-chan!” an old woman called out, stopping to greet them — Obito, specifically. “You’re out so early!” 

“Haha, I’m a real ninja, you know! I’m working hard from dawn to dusk!” Obito bragged, forcing Kakashi to come to a complete stop as well. “How about you, Saya-obaa-chan? You’re up early too!” 

“Oh, I’m heading to the market. I want to get as much of the pears as I can, you see, before they’re sold out,” the old woman said, smiling. “Daichi-san from down the street and I will be making some pear wine, you see. They need to be nice and fresh, and we’ll need a few bushels.” 

Obito nodded along. “Are you going to be okay carrying all that? They’re heavy,” he said. “How about Kakashi and I help out?” 

“What?” Kakashi demanded, his head snapping toward him. 

“Come on, do you want to leave Saya-obaa-chan to do it alone? What if her back gives out?” Obito shot back. “We’ve got plenty of time. And anyway, if you don’t want to, then just go head by yourself. I’ll catch up.” 

Kakashi’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t quite have the guts to tell the old woman they had more important business than her wine making. Even if she was probably a civilian, she was still an elder. And Obito was right. They had more than two hours to spare. 

He trailed after his teammate and the wine granny while they chatted amiably. From the conversation, Kakashi could guess that Obito had helped her and her friends with various errands in the past, some of which sounded vaguely familiar. That was when a certain sense of unease began to form in the back of his mind. 

The shopping and carrying took longer than Kakashi would have liked, but they were done with time to spare and finally resumed their walk. 

And then... 

“Obito-chan!” 

“Oh, Miki-obaa-chan, how are you? And how is Momo?” 

And also... 

“Marin-obaa-san, hello!”

“I’m so glad I ran into you, Obito-kun! If you have a moment...” 

Carrying a sick dog to the vet. More groceries. Hanging up potted plants. Helping someone down the stairs. The list went on. 

Every one of Obito’s dumb excuses over the years had been for real, Kakashi realized with growing horror. Instead of being a slacker, Obito was just terrible at setting priorities — and, somehow, he was dragging Kakashi along with him. One errand, three... that would have been fine, but they just kept coming. 

...They were already late. 

Paling as he realized this, Kakashi clamped his hand around Obito’s arm and yanked him away from the latest grandma, just as the old woman was handing over a handful of sweets as thanks. He ignored Obito’s protesting yelp and forced them into a headlong run. 

“Kakashi!! What the hell?!” Obito hollered, biting off a curse as he tripped and only barely regained his balance. 

He had a sudden suspicion that Kakashi wouldn’t have slowed even if he’d fallen and would have instead just dragged him along face down on the ground. 

Rushing like that, they burst in on a scene of Minato-sensei pacing in tight, nervous circles at the designated meeting place. He looked at them with undisguised relief, while Rin just chuckled lightly. 

“See, sensei? I told you they’re together,” she said. They hadn’t seen her any time that morning, but of course she knew. 

Minato laughed awkwardly. “Yes, you did,” he admitted. “It’s just... Obito is one thing, but Kakashi running late seemed too unbelievable. I thought something must have happened. Like an accident. Or an abduction.” 

“Thanks, sensei,” Obito muttered. It was his own fault for always being late, though. 

“My apologies, my conduct was unacceptable,” Kakashi said, ducking his head. 

“Too bad, I thought if it was Kakashi, it might work,” Rin laughed. “But I guess it’s just not possible. Getting Obito to come on time, I mean.” 

“Oh, come on!” 

“...You tried too?” Kakashi realized. 

It was obvious when he thought about it, and he had even wondered about it in passing before. Why wouldn’t Rin, who spent so much time with Obito outside missions and who did care about his performance, not just wake him up and walk him to their meetings, if that was what it took to get him to come on time? 

He couldn’t remember now whether he’d written it off as a sign of her excessive coddling, or if he’d just dismissed the whole question out of indifference. But of course the answer was that Rin had tried, and it hadn’t worked. 

“I just can’t help getting pulled along at his pace,” she admitted, smiling and completely lacking any concern over this. “So we just both ended up late instead. It seemed better if I at least come on time and catch him up on everything afterwards.” 

‘Pulled along at his pace.’ 

Rin was one thing, but Kakashi too? It wasn’t like he ever forgot about their meeting time and needing to get there, so how did it end up like this? 

Opposite Kakashi’s brewing existential crisis, Minato smiled as his worst case speculations turned out to be unfounded. “It’s good that you are working together more closely,” he said. “You’ve finally come into your own as a team. I was worried about our newest orders, but it looks like you’ll be alright.” 

With the shift in his tone, their light-hearted atmosphere silently drained away, leaving three veteran shinobi facing their captain. 

“We’ve received new orders?” Kakashi asked. 

“That’s right. After your mission, the situation in the northwest has turned in our favor. With a little more, we’ll be able to push Iwa and Kumo back to their borders and secure the area,” Minato explained. As always, his tone and expression were mild but completely unreadable, without any excitement, bitterness, or other emotion. “I don’t know if you’ve heard yet, but there is even talk that an armistice might be signed come winter. We need to make sure to put forward the strongest front possible to push it through.” 

Kakashi nodded slowly, turning the situation over in his mind. He hadn’t heard any rumors, but that wasn’t a surprise. He had never been concentrated on staying on top of the village’s internal information network. 

If the expected timing was winter specifically, then it was probably due to the shortage of supplies that had steadily worsened on all sides. Civilian populations had been hit hard during the war, and even food rations were becoming tight. Once winter hit, the hidden villages would quite likely find it difficult just to keep their forces fed… no one had enough left to continue the war, simple as that. 

But that didn’t mean they would just peacefully accept that. The conditions of the armistice, the spiteful, secretive sabotage that would follow in its wake — all of that and more would depend on each village’s position at the end. 

So Konoha would put everything they had left into one last offensive, before hostilities drew to a close. 

“Are we being sent back out?” Kakashi guessed. 

“Not exactly,” Minato said. “I am. I’ve been assigned command of forces on the northwest front, and I’ll be heading out as soon as the reinforcement squads coming with me are gathered. It’ll be a big responsibility… and it will take all of my time until it’s done.” 

He said it so evenly that Kakashi almost missed the real meaning. 

‘A big responsibility’ — it was a position equal to a general in normal militaries, the commander who made decisions for an entire army and determined the course of the war. 

‘Until it was done’ — until the war  _ ended. _

And also ‘all of his time,’ meaning… 

“So you won’t have time to lead a four man cell anyone, and we’ll be given a separate assignment,” Kakashi said, a small inkling of worry niggling in the back of his mind. 

Minato smiled, a little awkward. “It’s a little more than that,” he said. “You are two chuunin under a jounin commander. It is more accurate to say that I am leaving the team... for the foreseeable future.”

“What?! You’re leaving?” Obito exclaimed, jumping to his feet in an exaggerated shock. Rin mirrored his wide-eyed, open-mouthed surprise, her hands clasped to her chest. 

“Isn’t it obvious this was coming?” Kakashi muttered. “It’s a waste of resources to have two jounin on the same team.” 

He didn’t feel as pleased as he would have expected about being acknowledged as a fully fledged team leader. 

“That’s correct,” Minato said, before an argument could brew up like usual. “Your team has been given a separate assignment — on the eastern front. You’ll be merging with a chuunin squad on the coast and taking over patrols to suppress any hostile action from Kiri. They’ve been kept mostly in check, since they suffered a major blow early in the war, but we need to make sure they don’t get the chance to strike us from behind while most of our forces are concentrated in the center belt.” 

“Why can’t we go with you? Isn’t Kakashi supposed to be a genius hotshot? And I even activated my Sharingan too!” Obito protested. 

“This assignment is also important,” Minato said, not explaining any further and not giving any leeway. There was no way to tell what he thought of the division in their assignments. 

It was possible he didn’t know the exact reasons either. Minato was not the Hokage yet, even if it was certain he would be, come the new year. He would not be appraised of the Sandaime’s every decision, and he had his own concerns to focus on, with his new role. 

It was also possible that he couldn’t tell them. They were still too young and green to have much clearance, after all. Or perhaps he just didn’t want to. Kakashi knew they had plenty of shortcomings that would justify keeping them on a secondary duty, if Minato-sensei wasn’t there to assure their team’s success. 

Kakashi didn’t haven’t an opinion one way or another, whether it was the Iwa front or the Kiri one. 

But... 

The Bloody Mist had a long history of targeting those from kekkei genkai clans. Was it really alright for the team to be sent? 

...Well, the Hokage must have considered that. It wasn’t Kakashi’s place to question their orders. 

~.~

As befitting an extended patrol mission, their new assignment had them report to a roughly-constructed outpost on the eastern coast. It had started out as a hut built by some local fisherman just out of reach of the tides, but as the patrols dragged on, parts had been rebuilt and fortified in increasingly less subtle ways. 

The chuunin squad Minato had mentioned were the ones who had previously guarded this part of the coastline. They had started out as a four man team, but only two remained to meet Obito, Kakashi and Rin. 

“Himura got done in by those Bloody Mist bastards,” the older of the two explained. His arm was in a sling, and it looked like he hadn’t shaved in a while. “And Inoue just vanished. Maybe he got taken, or maybe he couldn’t take it and ran off, no way to tell.” 

“Yanagi-san!” the other, a younger woman with a mass of bandages around her head, protested. “Inoue wasn’t a coward. Don’t say something that can’t be taken back.” 

The man, Yanagi, shrugged one shoulder, disinterested. Instead, he turned to the new arrivals. “One of you is a jounin, right? I’ll be handing over command to you, then.” 

Nodding sharply, Kakashi stepped forward. “That’s me. Hatake Kakashi.” 

“I’m Nohara Rin, I’ll be the team medic,” Rin spoke up next, smiling to smooth over any lingering tensions. 

“And I’m Uchiha Obito!” 

If either of the two chuunin had opinions about the young age of their new team leader, they didn’t share them. However, Yanagi glanced at Obito with a frown. “You’re an Uchiha? You better watch your back. They’ll be after you first.” 

“Eh?” Obito started in surprise. 

Kakashi frowned. “So it’s like that after all? Obito, take your jacket off.” 

“What? I can’t do that!” Obito complained. “Do you know what the elders would do to me, if they found out I was too weak to wear the clan crest? No one in the Uchiha clan hides it!” 

“How are they going to find out? And what’s more important, your clan pride or your life?” Kakashi snapped. 

“No,” Obito insisted, crossing his arms. “I’m from the Uchiha clan. We’ve always worn the clan crest proudly. I’m not a weakling who can’t handle it! I’ve already awakened my Sharingan!” 

For a moment, Kakashi thought Rin would say something to persuade him to see sense, but when she placed a hand on Obito’s shoulder, the two of them only exchanged a long look. Whatever was making Obito act so irrationally, Rin seemed to understand and nodded reluctantly. 

“Kakashi,” she said, turning to him instead, “it’s not just about the crest. Is it really that necessary?” 

Narrowing his eyes, Kakashi considered making it an order. However reluctantly, Obito had acknowledged Kakashi as the team leader, and this wasn’t just squabbling within their trio. They were on a mission, with additional team members, where an enemy could strike at any time. Discipline was vital. 

But Obito was also right. No Uchiha ever took off or hid their clan symbol. They had even refused armor on the back during the warring clans period, and none of them wore vests, except with the Military Police uniform. It was an unspoken rule that even a team leader would know not to try and contradict. Their mission wasn’t even an infiltration one, where hiding their identities and characteristics was necessary. 

Kakashi was just… 

He was just… 

It was just Obito. No matter how much he boasted about his clan, he had always been the weakest one. Without his clan’s characteristic genius and strength, how was he supposed to live up to their arrogance? 

Even if he had his Sharingan now, he was still just Obito. 

“Hey,” Obito said sharply. “Are you thinking I can’t handle it? I might not be a high and mighty jounin like you, but I’m still a shinobi, Kakashi. Don’t look down on me!” 

Meeting Obito’s glare for a moment, Kakashi huffed and looked away. “Fine, do as you will,” he said. 

Arguing in front of the other two chuunin he would be commanding, both adults likely to have doubts about such a young jounin taking charge, wasn’t how he wanted to start the mission. 

“Thank you, Kakashi,” Rin said, smiling in relief. 

It was, unfortunately, a decision he would come to regret. 

~.~

The patrols were run in pairs, and after some discussion, it was decided that Yanagi would remain with his old partner, the woman Sasaki, while Kakashi would go with Obito, and Rin would remain on standby at the base camp. 

It had been Yanagi’s suggestion, and Kakashi had been somewhat concerned at the clear division that remained in their five man team as a result, between the old group and the new. However, he had decided to accept this downside in exchange for keeping the two patrol groups more balanced. After all, Obito was a much less experienced shinobi than the two adults, so partnering him with their team’s jounin commander made the most sense. 

Kakashi had realized it was better not to say that, though. 

Most of the coastline was too rocky and the currents too strong to serve as an approach even for shinobi, so the patrols were fairly simple. The entire stretch of coast from Land of Steam in the south to Land of Woods in the north could be covered in only half a day at the speed of a shinobi, and the route was further divided into halves by the location of the outpost shack. The only thing they needed to do each day was rotate between the two halves, checking the traps they maintained, looking for any tracks, and doing a quick sweep of the abandoned fishing villages, the surviving civilians having long since moved further inland to avoid the Kiri raiding parties. 

It wasn’t a difficult mission, but the sense of tension that never quite lifted had a way of wearing down even a veteran’s nerves. That... and the boredom. 

It was boring. There was no getting around that. 

“Didn’t old man Yanagi say they get intruders pretty often?” Obito complained as they continued along the now familiar route. “It’s been more than a week, and there’s nothing!” 

“Do you think we’re missing something?” Kakashi asked, barely refraining from rolling his single eye. 

“No, I mean... I want some action! I finally got my Sharingan, and we’ve only had one mission to use it on. How am I supposed to prove that I have what it takes to become Hokage when the missions are like this?” 

“Every mission is important to the war effort,” Kakashi recited dully. “Every shinobi must do their part. A single weak link—” 

“OK, but this is boring,” Obito interrupted. “Even Rin’s bored.” 

“So she’s hoping you get into a life or death battle with enemy shinobi ready to slit your throat?” Kakashi shot back. 

She was obviously not hoping for that, and Obito could only make a face in reply. “You’re really annoying,” he said accusingly. 

Kakashi spread his hands in a gesture that was more taunting than reconciliatory. 

He still wasn’t used to this. The things they said hadn’t changed much — though the insults had gotten fewer and less cutting — but the atmosphere during their back and forth had become completely different. No matter how much he complained or rolled his eyes, Obito didn’t really get angry anymore, Kakashi could tell. 

As they moved on, letting the meaningless banter drop, Obito wasn’t seething with resentment at Kakashi’s back. Glancing back, he thought he even saw the trace of a faint grin, as if a small argument had been enough to break up the boredom he had been complaining about. 

Like Kakashi was a teammate he actually wanted to have, instead of an unfortunate duty. 

It was strange. But not unpleasant. 

They slowed as they approached the next leg of their patrol route — one of the rare coves, where the treeline went all the way up to the water, creating a suitable landing point. It was also an area that became shrouded in mist more often than not. These points made it a particularly dangerous part of the patrol. 

While Obito moved to check the traps that had been left behind, Kakashi looked for any sign of tracks or disturbance along the wet, mossy roots and tree trunks. Visibility was low, as usual, and the moisture made even scent unreliable. 

Behind him, Obito cursed quietly, fumbling the trap he was adjusting. 

Kakashi huffed to himself, both amused and exasperated. But the sudden silence that followed made him feel an instinctive chill. He glanced over his shoulder, inexplicably afraid that Obito would have just disappeared without him noticing. To be picked off one by one in the mist… 

Obito was still there, but he was completely motionless as he stared at the trap he’d been messing with. Without saying anything, he turned to meet Kakashi’s gaze. 

His Sharingan was active, spinning slowly. Abruptly, Kakashi understood. 

He had activated it to help his dexterity, and then he’d seen something that was out of place. He didn’t indicate anything specific, so it could only be… the mist. 

It must have been filled with chakra — unnatural and generated by a jutsu. In the worst case scenario, they were probably already surrounded. 

‘What do we do?’ Obito was asking with his eyes. 

Raising one hand, Kakashi made the hand sign for ‘continue.’ They needed to buy time. 

Obito blinked once, then his entire stance shifted, relaxing into his usual casual posture. “Hey, Kakashi!” he called out, his voice impressively relaxed. “I think this one’s rusted stuck! We’re gonna have to replace the whole thing!” 

“Tch!” Kakashi clicked his tongue. “Then stop yapping and do it!” 

There was a muttered curse in reply, along with rather believable sounds of tinkering. Crossing his arms, Kakashi surreptitiously scanned the trees and the mist around them. According to what he’d heard, Kiri nin specialized in killing by sound instead of sight, employed in conjunction with their mist techniques. By the same principle, it was possible that he’d be able to smell them once they were closer, since it didn’t seem like the mist erased their scent aside from its natural dampening properties. 

However, if they had set a trap instead... A trap around a trap. This place would be ideal, since the patrol had to approach their own trap from a certain direction to check it. But if that was the case, why hadn’t the Kiri nin triggered it yet? 

...Because Kakashi hadn’t come close yet. Whatever it was, only Obito was in range. 

But if it became clear they couldn’t get both, they’d settle for one — once Obito tried to move away, the trap would probably trigger. 

Although it was all just conjecture, Kakashi felt certain in his conclusions. 

Then the most important thing was to break loose of the trap and escape. 

Pushing off the tree, he called out, “What’s taking so long? Aren’t you done yet?” 

When Obito glanced at him, Kakashi signed ‘trap.’ A slower than usual blink was the only response. “I’m trying,” Obito protested. “If you want it done faster, then come over here and do it yourself!” 

“Fine!” 

As Kakashi approached, Obito shifted as if to make room for him but actually getting into position to run. Their eyes met, both tensed and ready for the exact moment—

Faint and almost indistinguishable, something cut through the air. 

Both of them burst into motion. 

Kakashi had expected a barrage of senbon or kunai, perhaps with an explosive tag for additional damage. Unlike the bamboo groves they had passed through in Land of Grass or the sturdy trees of Land of Fire, the wood here couldn’t be easily repurposed for a trap, so the options were limited no matter how skilled the trap maker. In a sense, he was right. Several kunai shot through the air with a distinctive, familiar sound. However, none of them came even close. 

Instead, loops of wire closed around the branch Obito had been standing on and the tree trunk next to it. The two of them had already jumped away, but Kakashi’s brow furrowed as he caught a glimpse of the trap’s nature. 

‘The wire didn’t cut into the tree,’ he noted — even though properly utilized ninja wire would easily slice through wood and bone alike. Was it sloppy construction? Or... was it not meant to be lethal to start with? 

There wasn’t time to think about it. 

Knowing they were at a disadvantage in the mist, Obito had flipped quickly through the hand seals of a Katon and, as soon as he had touched down on another branch, breathed out a wall of flame that forced the mist back at least temporarily. 

As the flames faded, there was no sign of movement among the twisting, squat trees, only half-burned leaves falling slowly into the water below. However, there was no doubt their opponents were out there. 

The battle had already begun. 

~.~

“RIN!!” 

Howlering her name, Obito all but crashed into his soulmate, barely slowing in his headlong rush. They collided in a tangle of limbs, and only a deft use of chakra kept them both on their feet. 

“What happened?” Rin demanded, her hands immediately going to the cuts on Obito’s shoulder, where his mesh undershirt had been torn apart. She knew, of course, that something had gone wrong. The strong feelings of agitation that he’d projected toward her, mixed with growing anger and fear, had been what let her know to rush out to meet him, but their connection couldn’t convey the details. 

Already, her eyes darted over his shoulder and to their surroundings, looking for another person who wasn’t there. 

“It was an ambush,” Obito explained in a rush. “A team from Kiri was waiting in the second forest area south, three, maybe four of them. We managed to break out, then Kakashi told me he was going to set a trap and to go on ahead, but he never caught up—” He took a deep breath almost like a gasp as he ran out of air, saying it all in a rush. “We have to go rescue him!” 

Rin’s lips pursed, but she didn’t say something about how Kakashi was more likely to be dead. She knew there was no point in that, and she could feel Obito’s panicked, guilty determination. 

“OK,” she said. “Let’s go.” 

Obito nodded sharply, but as the two of them set out quickly back the way he’d come, he couldn’t help glancing over his shoulder. “The other two?” he asked, meaning the two other chuunin on their team, Yanagi and Sasaki. He wasn’t sure whether they had been out on their own patrol, or...

“They’re not coming,” Rin said. Her face remained completely neutral and unreadable, but he could feel the echo of her cold dismissal toward them. 

The two halves of their team, the old and the new, had remained distant, and it was easy to imagine that the adults had dismissed her sudden concern for her friends. Even if she had told them that she and Obito had a connection that made her knowledge more than just a hunch, they might not have believed her. 

Or perhaps they just hadn’t wanted to become involved, even knowing she was serious. It didn’t matter at the moment. 

“But how are we going to find them?” Rin wondered. 

She was right. Unlike the situation when she had been the one taken, they couldn’t just intuitively tell which direction Kakashi was. And neither of them had anything close to Kakashi’s level of skill in tracking. 

‘Dammit, Kakashi,’ Obito thought, gritting his teeth. ‘If one of us was staying behind, it should have been me! You and Rin would have been able to find me in no time!’ 

It was such a stupid, illogica choice. It wasn’t like Kakashi at all. 

Of all the times to grow feelings, it had to be now—!

“First, let’s go back to where we separated. If we can find where Kakashi was caught, we might be able to follow them,” Obito said with a clearheadedness that surprised even him. “It’s too far to swim even for Kiri nin, so they must have a boat that brought them. There wasn’t any sign of it when we were patrolling, so it’ll probably return to pick them up on a schedule. If that’s the case, they’ll be hiding out somewhere nearby until then.” 

Assuming they weren’t on a suicide charge. Assuming they hadn’t just killed Kakashi. 

Because there was  _ no way to tell. _ There was no certainty, not like with Rin. 

Sensing his unease, Rin tried to project a warm assurance toward him, but Obito knew she felt the same things he did. If anything, he was the one who needed to assure her. 

“He’s alive,” Obito said. “The first trap, it was non-lethal. They were aiming to capture from the start. And...” 

He hesitated, but Rin needed to know. 

“I think they were after me,” he admitted. “When we were fighting, one of them shouted something about an Uchiha. I thought they were just talking about me, but it doesn’t really make sense. They’d raised the mist again, and they were all fighting with their eyes closed, by sound. They wouldn’t have seen my Sharingan, or the symbol on my jacket. I think they knew there’s an Uchiha on our team, and that’s why they ambushed us.” 

Otherwise, setting an ambush didn’t make sense in the first place. There wasn’t much to gain from taking out a chuunin patrol on the coast, if they had the ability to slip past, further inland. But if it was possible to gain a Sharingan, for study or to implant, that was a different matter, just like Yanagi and Kakashi had warned him from the start. 

(How did they even know there was an Uchiha among the patrols now? Was there a traitor? Had they intercepted some communication from Konoha? Maybe it was for the best that Rin had come alone, when they couldn’t be sure whether they could even trust their other… ‘teammates.’ The only ones they could trust were each other — and Kakashi.) 

Rin’s gaze flicked down to Obito’s torso — clad only in his undershirt. 

“Kakashi must have realized it too. Before he headed back, he told me to give him my jacket,” Obito said unhappily. “He said it was for the trap he’d set, but I think he probably...” 

He’d probably worn it to make himself a more convincing decoy. 

“It’s not your fault,” Rin said, knowing what he wasn’t saying. 

Obito shook his head sharply. He should have realized things sooner, and he should have considered the meaning when Kakashi told him to hand over his jacket. But Obito had… he hadn’t thought about it, when Kakashi said he’d catch up, since he was faster to begin with. Because he did trust Kakashi, as a teammate and a squad leader. He’d just done it. 

No, more than that, he should have listened from the start. 

“It’s  _ not  _ your fault,” Rin repeated firmly. “We all made mistakes, and we’ll do better next time. But right now, the important part is getting Kakashi back.” There was an undercurrent of worry from her side that made Obito glance over with a sudden sense of concern. Rin bit her lip. “Kakashi... he lost an eye. I’m worried they’ll realize something is wrong.” 

It wasn’t as if a one-eyed Uchiha was impossible, but they were pretty unlikely to be sent out back into the field. 

Swallowing down his growing agitation, Obito put on a burst of speed. 

~.~

In fact, the trail was easy to find — laughably easy, in how obvious it had been made. Obito and Rin exchanged a look. 

The Kiri nin had definitely realized they had caught the wrong one, and they were all but inviting them to come charging in for a rescue. 

“...Should we wait for backup?” Rin asked, her voice lacking any enthusiasm at the notion. “If it’s two of us against three or four enemies... We don’t even know their rank.” 

“I think Kakashi took out at least one,” Obito said, looking over the battlefield they had found. The deep marks in the trees from Kakashi’s lightning jutsu were unmistakable, as were the long gashes from one of the Kiri nin, who wielded a massive sword. “And they’ll be holding back again to capture and not kill. As long as we focus on getting Kakashi and getting out of there...” 

It was risky. It was outright reckless, if not just plain stupid. 

Neither of them would turn back. 

“Can you use my Sharingan?” Obito asked as they began to follow the obvious trail out of the trees. 

Rin gestured ‘so-so’ with one hand. “I think it has to be your chakra specifically, and I can’t draw it reliably.” 

“Okay, then I’ll try to push it toward you,” Obito said. “Just give me a sign when it’s time. Maybe that’ll help. Let’s try to confuse them, so they don’t know which of us to target.” 

The trail led down the coast and inland, to a sharp, rocky area. Narrow passages had been washed out over time between thick, tall boulders that remained clustered together. Visibility was poor in the twisting paths, and whoever entered would be slowed to cautiously edging onward. 

“It’ll be there,” Rin judged. “Obito...” 

“Yeah, let’s split up,” Obito agreed. “I’ll head in, since they’ll be waiting for me. And you circle around to look for Kakashi.” 

There was no need for her to say that she didn’t like this. But there wasn’t a better choice. “...Okay,” she said. “Be careful, and just hold on until we can regroup.” 

Kunai in hand, Obito advanced into the natural maze. 

He kept his head down, so the lens of his goggles would obscure his eyes and activated his Sharingan immediately. The chakra drain would be outweighed by the benefit of even a split second warning on a trap or ambush, he had decided. It was the right call — he hadn’t gone far before running into the first genjutsu. 

For a moment, Obito let it cling to him, determining what it was. Not much, just a slight warping of the senses that muffled footsteps and blurred the shadows, easily dispelled with his Sharingan. 

But this meant he was on the right track. It wouldn’t be much further to the real ambush. 

More genjutsu had been laid further into the winding passages — to confuse his sense of direction, to control his sight, and finally one that would completely overtake his senses. Although he dispelled it easily, Obito came to a stop as it was cast on him, pretending to be caught. 

The partially hidden presence that had fallen into step behind him a while back finally began to close in. When Obito showed no reaction, the Kiri nin grew bolder and finally came to a stop only a few steps away. 

“He got caught... it’s not this one either? How many damn brats are there around here?” the man complained under his breath. 

So the genjutsu had been a test of sorts, since the Sharingan would easily break through. 

“Oh well. Guess we don’t need this one...” 

Although he couldn’t see the Kiri nin standing behind him, Obito could easily imagine his movements — leisurely drawing back his arm to strike a lethal blow to a helpless target. In his head, he counted down for the right moment to counterattack, when his opponent left himself open. 

The faint sound of kunai cutting through the air was the only warning he had of an attack from a completely different source. 

“Shit! What the hell?!” the first Kiri nin yelled, as Obito abruptly burst into motion, dodging a barrage from weapons from atop one of the rock outcroppings. “Kasumi?!” 

“Idiot! He’s obviously faking!” a woman yelled back. 

Jumping back to get them both in his sight, Obito glanced between the two. It was indeed a man, tall and thin, slouching even as he stood, his face covered with a breathing apparatus, and a woman, dressed in a long blue robe with draping sleeves and a veil. He hadn’t seen the woman before and the man only in passing. The two who had fought him and Kakashi directly, a swordsman and an older man with an eyepatch, were both missing. 

If Kakashi had really taken out one of them, that meant only one had been left behind to guard the hostage. He had to believe Rin could handle that. 

“So he’s the real Uchiha?” the slouching man wondered. 

“We can’t be sure. He might just be good at genjutsu,” the woman said with a frown.

“Better than you?” the man chortled, obviously needling, but his teammate ignored his jibe. 

“Just capture him,” she snapped. 

So she was the genjutsu user. And the kunai she’d thrown at Obito were the same short-handle type that had been part of the trap back in the forest, so she was probably also the trap specialist... not a frontline fighter. 

That would put things in his favor. 

Thinking this, Obito shifted his stance, his hands coming together in a series of rapid seals. 

‘Katon: Grand Fireball!’ 

A towering plume of flame shot out of his mouth, but the Kiri man just laughed. “Whoops!” he chuckled, jumping nimbly out of the way. A long strip of cloth wound around his arm uncoiled, trailing behind him like the tail of a snake or an eel. As he swung his arm, it followed in a graceful arc, longer than Obito would have initially guessed. 

But something was wrong. There was something about its movements, and a layer of chakra clung to it. Acting on instinct, Obito threw himself out of the way. 

The sash — no, the whip — crashed down where he had been standing with a weight it shouldn’t have had. It cut a long, straight gash in the rock and retracted immediately, swinging through the air toward him again. 

“Nagi! Careful!” the woman called out again. 

“It’s fine! It doesn’t matter if I cut off a limb or two, you know?” the man shouted back. “I know what I’m doing!” 

So that was his weapon. Long, sharp, and its movements could be at least partially controlled, it was definitely a tricky thing. It could probably bind too, with Obito’s luck. 

‘Bring it on!’ he thought, baring his teeth in something like a smile. 

~.~

Obito knew when Rin started her fight. A controlled fluctuation from her end purposefully signaled to him to do what he could to help from his end. 

That was good. She hadn’t needed to search too far. 

Although it was more instinct than any kind of skill, Obito focused on ‘pushing’ chakra toward her. The link between them was always there, so it was just a matter of controlling what travelled through it... something that neither of them could do with complete precision, unfortunately. But to let Rin borrow his Sharingan, he just had to focus on his eyes, right? 

There was an echo of physical sensation from Rin’s side and a ripple of faint emotion. Unlike Obito, she was good at keeping her cool and controlling her feelings, not just from broadcasting across their connection but also from affecting her mind and heart at a crucial moment. But that small reaction most likely meant that it had worked. 

For a moment, the image of a narrow cave entrance flashed through his mind. 

‘Was that... what Rin is seeing?’ Obito wondered. 

Then could she see what he was looking at? 

...Not that there was much to see. In fact, the reason Obito’s distraction hadn’t cost him so far was that his battle had fallen into a half-hearted standoff. 

To his consternation, he had realized that his opponents were closer to tokubetsu jounin level than chuunin, especially the genjutsu specialist. While her specialty was the Uchiha clan’s strength, she was still experienced and skilled enough to run interference for her teammate, making sure Obito could never close the distance or gain the upper hand. 

On the other hand, he was also able to make sure that they never cornered him, so after some time, the Kiri nin seemed to have settled in with the intent to wait for him to make a mistake or simply wear him down to exhaustion. 

That was very lucky for Obito, since his perception of the exchange of whip lashes, fire balls, and kunai from all sides was intermittently overlaid with images of a small cave. 

There was only one enemy there, the swordsman with the massive blade. A much smaller figure, marked by Kakashi’s distinctive silver hair, lay behind him, unmoving. There was no sign of the older man with the eyepatch — Kakashi must have taken him out when they were capturing him, and unless Obito was mistaken, he had likely been the team’s jounin captain. 

With no way to approach stealthily, Rin had instead stepped boldly in front of the cave entrance and looked the Kiri swordsman directly in the eye. 

He was a direct type. With their mission target in front of him, he didn’t hesitate to give chase. 

Obito’s worry spiked — uselessly — and he paid for it by, his own opponent’s whip scoring a glancing hit across his flank. More troubling, it wrapped around his leg and yanked him off his feet, pulling him toward the Kiri nin wielding it. 

“Got you!” the man called out. “Finally!” 

“Shit!” Obito cursed. Trying to cut the sash whip wouldn’t work, he already knew, as the chakra in it made it impervious to ordinary blades. Instead, he quickly clipped through an abbreviated sequence of hand seals and breathed out a wall of flame. 

His intent had been to distract the man at least momentarily. As long as his control over his weapon loosened for even just a moment, Obito would be able to slip away. 

However, he had predicted a Suiton jutsu crashing into his Katon before it could reach its target, making the flames hiss and splutter out in a burst of steam. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that the woman knew at least one Suiton, since most ninja in Kiri probably did, but it was still somehow an unexpected and unpleasant shock. 

“Nice! You’re finally useful, Kasumi!” the man yelled gloatingly. 

Obito yelped as he was dragged along the rocky ground. His struggles were completely futile, and the sash only crawled further up his body, binding both legs and his arms as well. With a final sharp pull, the man caught him by the back of his shirt and dangled him in the air like a particularly recalcitrant cat. 

“Don’t touch me!” Obito snapped when the man reached for his face — for his goggles, which had gotten knocked askew. 

Yanking them away, the man grabbed his jaw and twisted his head uncomfortably to look him in the eye. Belatedly, Obito realized it was to check whether his Sharingan was active. Or rather, to see whether he had one. 

“So? Is he the right one?” the woman asked, jumping down from her perch atop the surrounding rocks and making her way over. 

“Yeah, it’s him,” the man confirmed. Clicking his tongue, he forcefully tilted Obito’s head back and forth rapidly, making his neck ache. “You sure gave us a lot of trouble, you shitty brat. Man, I can’t wait until those freaks cut you up.”

“Stop wiggling him like that,” the woman scolded. 

There was a senbon in her hand as she stepped forward, perhaps coated in some paralytic or knock out drug, or just perhaps she was simply skilled enough to hit the correct acupuncture points. Either way, Obito struggled to the best of his ability, writhing like a landed fish. Pulling his bound legs to his chest, he kicked out at the woman. 

“Whoa!” She sidestepped with smoothness befitting her skill, but since she no longer saw him as a threat, she didn’t retaliate, only glaring at her teammate. “Nagi, you stupid bastard, hold him still!” 

Before he could respond, Obito threw his head back violently, nearly making their skulls collide. “I’m trying! This is— harder— than it looks!” 

“He’s one brat! How hard can it be?!” 

“If you’re so smart, you do it!” 

“Oh yeah? Then what are you even here for?” 

“I caught him, didn’t I? Unlike your useless tricks—” 

“You’d be on fire if it wasn’t for me!” 

“I would’ve— Shit!” Cutting off in the middle of a reply with a curse, the man finally couldn’t keep his grip on Obito any longer and, fumbling, let him drop gracelessly onto the hard ground. 

It wasn’t the worst fall Obito had ever taken, but it wasn’t a light one either, since he couldn’t do a single thing to catch himself. His teeth rattled from the impact, and the air was driven from his lungs. Before he could recover enough to even try something — though what Obito couldn’t imagine, being all but cocooned with the sash whip — the woman dropped down to pin him with a knee to the back. 

Grabbing his hair, she pulled his aside and quickly stuck the senbon into his exposed neck. Immediately, Obito felt like every muscle in his body contracted and then went completely lax. He couldn’t move at all, not even to glare. 

“I have to do everything myself,” the woman muttered, standing and pointedly dusting off her robe. “Even that musclehead would have been more useful.” 

Her teammate snorted. “Don’t kid yourself. He would’ve lost his temper and cut the brat in half ages ago.” He nudged Obito with one foot, something much cooler appearing in his half-hidden expression. “Do you figure he’s worth it? The other one took out the captain... Are we even sure we’ll get any use out of him?”

“That’s up to the research team, isn’t it?” the woman said. “Anyway, you’ve heard what Ao has been able to do with the eye he got. Two Uchiha eyes should be worth at least that much too, right?” 

‘Oh. This... this is pretty bad,’ Obito realized. 

They really would cut his eyes out and kill him, after doing whatever else they felt like. 

He had known that objectively, but he had been too focused on rescuing Kakashi to really consider what it meant. Any mission outside the village carried the threat of death, but knowing that he was being targeted and for this reason was different. 

His throat suddenly felt dry, and a cold feeling settled in his gut. 

He had to do something. But there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t move at all. 

The man clicked his tongue. “Damn monsters...” he cursed under his breath. He pulled his leg back, aiming for a kick. 

All Obito could do was watch. But because he was watching every motion with dread, he saw the moment when a hand burst out of the ground next to the man’s other foot and grabbed hold of his ankle. ‘Hiding Mole jutsu?!’ he thought, stunned. With a single sharp movement, the hand pulled down — dragging the man’s leg down into the earth, partway up his calf. 

His stance suddenly disrupted, he shouted in surprise and swung his arms even as he began to topple over. 

His teammate took a step back in surprise, but before she could do anything more, a rapid barrage of three fireballs slammed into her one after another, making stumble and struggle to stay upright. She had thrown her arms up in time to shield her head and face, but her robe was left a smouldering wreck, which she rushed to rip off. 

In the blink of an eye, everything had descended into chaos. 

The ground behind the male Kiri nin rippled, and his attacker emerged smoothly and swiftly. In a single motion, while he was still off balance, his throat was slit open, and he toppled over with a last gurgling sound. 

“Nagi!” the woman cried out, belatedly realizing what was happening. “You—?!” 

That was all she managed. A high-pitched sound filled the air, and the unexpected interloper crossed the short distance between them in a flash. Blood splashed onto the ground, and a second body soon fell with a dull thud. 

“These two managed to catch you? That’s pretty pathetic, Obito,” Kakashi scolded lightly, flicking the arm he had used to pierce the woman. 

As expected of a jounin and a genius. With the element of surprise, he was able to take out two enemies in moments. However, it was likely that taking them out quickly was the only way he could have done it. There was a faint unsteadiness in both his breathing and his stance that spoke of, at the very least, chakra exhaustion. 

A pair of lighter footsteps approached quickly. Even unable to turn and look, Obito could tell it was Rin. 

Kneeling next to him, she placed a comforting hand on his back. “We rushed over as quickly as we could,” she said, while carefully rolling him over onto his back and using her medical ninjutsu to check his condition. “It turned out Kakashi had already woken up and was just waiting for a chance to escape, so once I distracted the guard...” 

‘Typical,’ Obito thought, his exasperation echoed with more gentle relief by Rin. 

“So? Is he poisoned?” Kakashi prompted. 

“No, just a blocked acupoint,” Rin said. “I’m going to unblock it. It might feel a bit strange. Ready?” 

Obito tried his best to send the mental equivalent of throwing up his hands. Why not? He didn’t know what he expected. Why did he even bother worrying about that guy? In reply, Rin radiated amusement. 

Her chakra stabbed into the side of his neck, making indeed a strange sensation momentarily spasm his body. When it faded, his extremities tingled, feeling returning to his limbs. 

“Urgh,” Obito muttered, closing his eyes and turning his head away. 

“Okay, okay, up you go,” Rin said, having finished quickly cutting away the sash that had been binding him. Pulling his arm over her shoulders, she started levering him to his feet. To both their surprise, Kakashi stepped up to Obito’s other side — even though the way he swayed slightly made it questionable who was propping up whom. Obito glanced at him, but he couldn’t make out his teammate’s expression. 

As they began to stumble away, rather awkwardly, Kakashi muttered in a voice that was barely audible, “You really did come.” And even quieter, “...Thanks.” 

~.~

That wasn’t the end of things, of course. The mission continued, as ever. 

Distasteful as it was, the bodies needed to be sealed — Konoha would want them. The rest of their team needed to be notified, and a report needed to be made back to the village. Although they discussed trying to intercept whatever pickup the Kiri team had been waiting for, they didn’t have the manpower for it, not with Kakashi exhausted, and without any knowledge of what kind of numbers they might face. Before long, another squad arrived from Konoha, replacing Kakashi’s team and sending the three of them back to the village. 

The Sandaime looked troubled when they made their in person report, but also distracted. They were placed on standby until another mission could be assigned. The Uchiha clan had to be notified too, and they made at least some perfunctory effort to confirm that Obito still had both eyes and to remind him of the great value of their bloodline. 

Minato-sensei was still out of the village — likely would be for a long time yet — but that was fine. They had managed on their own. 

Obito hadn’t bothered going back to his house. There was no point. No one was waiting for him there, since his grandmother passed away, and he had the essentials he’d packed for the long term patrol. Instead, he simply went home with Kakashi. 

For once, Kakashi didn’t even bother pretending to dislike it. He didn’t complain while cooking dinner for all three of them, or when Obito made them all lunch for the next day too. He didn’t say anything about Rin and Obito spending the night, even when it happened again and again, often enough to go beyond just post-mission exhaustion. 

But because he wasn’t complaining, Obito wondered if maybe… Kakashi hadn’t just been making a fuss because he was like that and also nagged about everything. Maybe he really hadn’t liked it. 

How were they supposed to tell? 

Obito knew that Rin could tell what he felt about pretty much anything, and toward Rin, he himself had at least a general sense of whether she was genuinely frustrated, or happy, or just indifferent. It was annoying and inconvenient that Kakashi wasn’t the same. They couldn't tell what he was thinking, they couldn’t find him if they were separated, they didn’t even have the same certainty of at least always knowing that he was still alright. 

It was an unacceptable state of affairs. They needed to do something about it. 

When Obito said so, as they sat around the kotatsu after dinner, both Rin and Kakashi stared at him with raised eyebrows and an awkward silence. 

“...Are you stupid?” Kakashi asked finally, with his usual bluntness. 

_ “You’re _ stupid,” Obito shot back on principle. “I’m right, and you know it.” 

“I don’t know any such thing! Do you understand that teammates and soulmates are different things?” Kakashi demanded, gesturing sharply. He glared when Obito opened his mouth. “Do you? You don’t get like this about Minato-sensei! Or those two we were assigned to patrol with.” 

“Yeah, but you’re different,” Obito said. 

They stared at each other. He didn’t think he’d said anything that was wrong, but at the same time, he had a feeling that Kakashi was pointing out something that was also correct. 

“Yes, Kakashi is different,” Rin agreed, making Obito beam at her. He could always count on her. She went on, thoughtfully, “I suppose it’s true that teammate is not the right word. Even if we were assigned another team, we wouldn’t think of them the same way.” 

“You think we’re going to get separated?” Obito wondered with sudden concern.

“Of course we will, eventually,” Kakashi said. “If nothing else, it’s not like they’ll keep us together when the two of you become jounin. You’ll be team leaders with your own subordinates.” 

...There was a small but insistent swell of warm happiness in Obito’s chest at the way Kakashi sounded so certain that it would happen. There was no ‘if’ about it. One day, he and Rin would also become jounin, elite ninja in their own right. 

However, that wasn’t the point. 

“But I don’t want to,” he said, his lips putting down in a frown. “I don’t want other teammates. I want us to stay together.” 

“That’s what I’m telling you,” Kakashi gritten out. “That’s not how being teammates works!”

“That’s right. Because Kakashi isn’t just our teammate. He is a person who is precious to us,” Rin said. Ignoring the way Kakashi went rigid at her words, she smiled. “Our friend.” 

“A friend...” Obito repeated, deep in thought. Rin was the only friend he’d ever had, but Rin also hadn’t had other close friends, even though she was friendly with many people. “Is that what it is?” 

“A best friend,” Rin added, drawing a full-body flinch from Kakashi. 

He had been unexpectedly promoted twice, rising to a position — a  _ best  _ friend — he had never anticipated. He looked uncharacteristically rather like a small animal caught out by a hunter, wide-eyed and ready to bolt. 

“That means we’ll still be friends even if we are no longer teammates,” Rin went on. “So you don’t need to worry, Obito.” 

“That’s good,” Obito agreed, nodding along. “But that’s just all the more reason to do something. Since it’s Kakashi, we should do him too.” 

“Do?” Rin echoed, for once unable to follow his reasoning. 

“Do?!” Kakashi demanded, sounding rather strangled. 

Obito shot him a look. “Well, yeah. I mean, we should include him too. Like the kind of link we have.” 

Letting out a deep sigh, Kakashi buried his face in his hands. “You’re so stupid,” he muttered, muffled. 

“What, you don’t want to?” Obito said. “If you don’t want to, just say so!” 

“I didn’t say that. That’s not what I mean. But it’s not possible, do you get that?” Kakashi said. “You and Rin, you were born with that kind of special connection. It’s not something you can just make with someone because you want to.” 

“Well, maybe not exactly the same,” Obito said. “Rin told me about that one guy who had a bunch of theories, and we both know what it feels like, so we can at least try and do something like it.” 

“...You mean Nidaime-sama?” Rin asked. Slowly, her doubtful expression grew more thoughtful as she turned the thought around in her mind. Obviously, she would understand that he was right once she considered it. 

“That’s ridiculous,” Kakashi said flatly. 

Rolling his eyes, Obito didn’t bother arguing with him anymore. Silently and pointedly, he held out his hands, one to each of his teammates — no, his friends. 

Rin didn’t hesitate to reach out across the kotatsu to take his hand, and to extend her own to Kakashi as well. Both of them looked at him, waiting for his response, but Kakashi only looked down at their extended hands silently for a long time, his own hands clasped together at the edge of the table. 

There was a million things he might have been thinking. The pain that came from losing those close to you. The possibility of betrayal, just like how his father’s comrades had turned their backs on him. Something boringly pragmatic like the dangers of untested chakra manipulation. Maybe even whether he really wanted to risk being tied to an idiot like Obito. 

But finally, closing his eyes, he reached out and laid his hands in theirs. 

~.~


	14. Obito returner AU

Obito made for a very strange, unsettling child, and he didn’t do much to hide it. The fact that no one noticed something off about him was mostly because there was no one to notice. He didn’t seek out or interact with other children, and there were no adults in his life aside from his more than a little forgetful, increasingly absentminded grandmother. It was no surprise that she couldn’t tell that something was wrong with her grandson when she had already begun sometimes forgetting his name or that she had a grandson at all. 

He hadn’t remembered that from his childhood, the real one, but everything else in this second life seemed to be the same as the first time around. Maybe he hadn’t noticed. He had been a stupid kid. Or maybe he had just tried very hard to not see anything wrong with the only family he had. 

Even in this second life, he never saw his parents’ faces. Funny that. 

The last thing Obito remembered, really remembered, was taking the rampaging husk of the Juubi into himself and becoming its jinchuuriki, like the Rikudou Sennin had once been. 

After that, there was nothing. 

Just a static-filled blank. A vague impression of being ground down and torn apart, and the distant fluctuation of what might have been a voice or several.

He spent a long time afterwards drifting in and out of consciousness, and it was only later that he had understood why and what had happened — he had somehow ended up in the body of an infant, and that involved a lot of sleeping and not much ability to think. It was months before he could remain conscious for any period of time, and even longer before he had to acknowledge that this was all... real. 

Probably real. He didn’t think Infinite Tsukuyomi would be like this. He couldn’t imagine any part of his wanting to relive his childhood, once again powerless, pathetic and overlooked. 

Maybe it was all some purgatory dying dream while he was absorbed by the Juubi. 

As he gradually gained control of his tiny, weak form, Obito tried every means he could think of to find the seams or faults of an illusion. Disrupting his chakra did nothing, when he finally managed to gain control of it — since part of chakra was tied to the body, his control was completely off now that his body was different. No matter which part of the village he snuck into after he was able to leave the house, it was all just as it should be, with nothing strange or missing. The only thing left to check was Kamui and, though it took several years of struggle to build up the chakra and control to activate it, even that was completely... real. 

After that, Obito... didn’t know what to do. He returned to normal space absently, out of habit, and wandered back to his childhood home in a daze. 

“Oh, Obito, you’re back? When did you go out?” his grandmother wondered when he walked past her in the living room. She didn’t make any sign of noticing that he didn’t respond. 

Closing the door to his room, Obito let himself fall face-first onto his small bed. He wanted to scream into the worn comforter, but that might be too much even for the old woman to ignore. 

Compared to his life as an adult, his current situation could be considered peaceful. The things that had troubled him as a child — the desire for someone to acknowledge him, the desperate wish to become strong and to matter — were long since irrelevant to the adult him, and even if far from rolling in luxury, his needs were all taken care of. 

It was a different kind of hell, empty and meaningless. 

He couldn’t even just leave because his body was simply too weak. Activating Kamui for the scant moment needed to transport himself into the other dimension had left him shaking and returning had almost knocked him out. How many years would it take to reach a level where he could even just protect himself reliably, to say nothing of actually going into combat? 

And even then, he no longer had Hashirama’s cells inside him. He couldn’t regenerate from injuries, required nutrients and rest, and using Kamui would eventually leave him blind. 

He had been so close to Infinite Tsukuyomi, but now he was further away than ever. 

The need for air finally forced him to move. Rolling over onto his back, Obito stared blankly up at the ceiling. 

Even if all his plans had been reduced to zero, he would start again. He would achieve the Moon’s Eye plan and activate Infinite Tsukuyomi. There was no other destination for him. 

~.~ 

From his perspective, the first four years of Hatake Kakashi’s life passed unremarkably. He was undeniably a genius, which drew praise from everyone around him, but for Kakashi, it was simply how he was. All it meant was that the children his age seemed stupid and slow to him, and the adults spent too much time being ridiculous. 

The only reliable one was his father. Sakumo was ridiculous too, sometimes, but at least he was also amazing and brilliant. As a hero of the village, there was nothing he couldn’t do, and Kakashi compared himself to that goal every day. Soon, he would also be a splendid shinobi like that. Everyone thought so. 

Going to Academy was a necessary if tedious step toward his goal. He had already heard repeatedly that there wasn’t much for him to learn there and that his skill level was more than enough for graduation. His father had reluctantly considered letting him test out early. Certainly, the children he had seen during the entrance examination had been the opposite of impressive. 

So there was a certain irony that the Academy was where he received the greatest shock of his life. 

It didn’t happen at first. No matter how observant for his age, Kakashi didn’t notice anything during the entrance ceremony, or the first few weeks of class. 

He wasn’t interested in his classmates, so there had been no reason for him to notice Uchiha Obito, who was always quiet and alone, in the most distant corner of any room or group. Even the teachers seemed to often forget he was there. 

But he couldn’t not notice anymore once they were paired up for sparring about three weeks in. 

To the observers, the teacher and their little classmates, it probably looked like Kakashi was dominating the spar like he had every other time. His opponent might have been an Uchiha, but one that came last in every test and was utterly unremarkable. And although Obito avoided getting hit, he always did so at the last moment, seemingly by accident and luck. 

It didn’t look like that to Kakashi at all. 

There was no sign of frustration or fear or anything else in Obito’s expression. In fact, his face didn’t change at all throughout, remaining blank and disinterested. He didn’t break a sweat either, despite staying ahead of Kakashi the entire time, no matter how clumsily. 

No one was that lucky. It had to be skill... meaning that the entire spar was a farce, mocking Kakashi. 

It ended when Obito pretended to trip and fell on his back with a dull, put-upon groan. He didn’t move or react even when Kakashi’s fist stopped just short of his nose. The entire class burst out laughing, as if they had seen something funny, but there was no reaction from his opponent to that either.

“OK, stop!” the teacher called out, clapping his hands together. He was smiling with amusement as well. “It’s Kakashi-kun’s win again. Amazing as always! Now, the unison sign...” 

Obito stood slowly, dusting himself off, and held out his hand, two fingers extended. Kakashi glared. Uchiha Obito made no indication of noticing, and when the teacher cleared his throat, Kakashi had no choice but to reach out as well and complete the united hand seal. 

He wasn’t the only one to yank his hand away just a touch quicker than proper. 

It was only as he turned away to trudge back to the circle of students that Obito finally lifted his gaze to look at Kakashi properly in the eye. His glare was cold and cutting. Despite the sweat that instinctively broke out on the back of his neck under his scarf, Kakashi glared back vehemently, even as he made his way out of the circle. 

There was something weird about this classmate. There was definitely something off. 

And, without any further prompting or a reason he could explain, Kakashi decided he was going to find out what it was. 

~.~

This was easier said than done. 

He watched Uchiha Obito all through their classes after that, narrow-eyed and suspicious, but there was nothing to see. Only a child barely older than him, who didn’t pay attention in class and disappeared as soon as the Academy let out for the day. The fact that Kakashi hadn’t been able to tail him out of class was all the more suspicious. 

The same pattern continued day after day, until finally even Sakumo, newly returned from a mission, noticed Kakashi’s increasingly poor mood. 

“That’s a grim look you’ve got there,” Kakashi’s father said lightly as the two of them sat down to dinner. “Don’t tell me the Academy curriculum has gotten that advanced. Or did you get in trouble? I promise I won’t be mad.” 

Kakashi huffed, shooting him a look, before glaring broodily at the table again. “I’m not in trouble,” he said curtly. “And it’s not hard at all.” In fact, it was too simple. He was barely paying attention, too busy glaring at Uchiha Obito, but his scores hadn’t wavered from top of the class. 

Making a sound of acknowledgement, Sakumo waited patiently. 

“...There’s an Uchiha in my class,” Kakashi said finally. “There’s something weird about him.” 

“An Uchiha, huh?” Sakumo mused. “They’re strong. Their clan has many outstanding talents, and a lot of young geniuses too. I hadn’t heard anything about one your age though...” 

“That’s because he’s weird,” Kakashi insisted impatiently. “He doesn’t even try in class. I saw the stuff he hands in, it’s only got enough filled to pass, but that means everything he does do is right. And when we’re sparring, he doesn’t take it seriously at all. He always just dodges and loses by pretending to trip. Even when he was facing me—!” 

Sakumo’s eyebrows rose as Kakashi spilled out his frustration, and his lips began to twitch into a grin. Seeing it, Kakashi shot him a dirty look. 

“Ahem, he does sound strong,” Sakumo said, clearing his throat. However, his amusement was very clear. “Maybe the two of you can be friends. Wouldn’t it be nice to not be the only genius around?” 

“No,” Kakashi said flatly and without hesitation. 

He instinctively knew that Uchiha Obito didn’t have a drop of friendly feeling toward him. It was probably the opposite. That cold glare... it was more like Obito hated him. 

Sakumo chuckled awkwardly. “You know,” he said in a tone that made Kakashi absolutely certain he was going to hate whatever came out of his mouth next, “it’s okay if there’s someone stronger than you. Someone your age, I mean. That’s not a bad thing.” 

_ “No,” _ Kakashi repeated forcefully, immediately recognizing what his father was implying. “He’s not stronger than me! And even if he was, that’s not the point! Forget it. I’ll figure it out myself!” 

...He declared this boldly, but the entire reason he had been sighing and groaning over the dinner table was that it wasn’t so easily done. No matter how many times he tried to tail Obito, his target always gave him the slip, and observing at school didn’t yield any new information. There was no one to ask either, since none of their classmates had ever even talked to him — and Kakashi wasn’t naive enough to think he could just walk up to the Uchiha clan and start interrogating them about one of their number. 

However. 

No matter how ridiculous, Sakumo was a skilled and experienced ninja. Maybe there was something to be learned from his nonsense. 

Friends, huh? Friends were closer than anyone except family and knew each other well. 

Kakashi was sure they couldn’t become friends for real. But playing at friendship... could be useful. 

So with a new plan of attack in mind, Kakashi dropped into the seat directly next to Obito the following morning in class. Obito, who had been pretending to sleep with his head resting on his arms over the table, stiffened slightly and slowly turned to look at Kakashi. 

Kakashi stared back. His expression didn’t change, but there was probably something of the challenge he was thinking visible in his eyes. And again, there was a flash of that cold glare, before Obito turned away. 

There wasn’t anything new to learn, really, from sitting next to Obito in class. He obviously didn’t pay attention to the teacher, and he did just enough work to pass. Just as Kakashi had noted before, from snatching glimpses of what Obito handed in, everything he did do was correct, but the teachers didn’t seem to notice or care about that. 

However, what made it worth the effort was the gradually building tension in Obito’s shoulders and the way he began to grind his teeth the longer Kakashi stuck to his side. Sitting together in every class, always pairing up in sparring and training... the only respite was at lunch, when Obito did manage to give him the slip. 

This state of affairs dragged on for months, all the way to summer vacation. It was a testament to both their stubbornness. 

But at the end of the first term, on the last day of their final examination before summer break, Obito finally had enough. Instead of escaping as he always had once school let out, he waited for Kakashi and pointedly led the way to one of the many forested areas scattered throughout the village. Once they were alone, he finally turned to face Kakashi, all pretense of absentminded disinterest dropping away. 

“So?” he said shortly. “What do you want?” 

Dropping out of hiding among the trees, Kakashi kept his stance loose and ready to move at a moment’s notice. He couldn’t explain why, since they were to all appearances two young classmates, but he felt sure that a life or death battle wasn’t off the table. 

Even so, Kakashi refused to back down. 

“I’m going to find out what you’re hiding,” he declared, tilting his chin up challengingly. “Uchiha Obito!” 

Although so faint it was almost unnoticeable and impossible to interpret, there was a reaction. Just as Kakashi had thought, he was hiding something! 

Obito’s expression returned to a glacial blankness immediately, and he looked at Kakashi with the sort of contempt no one had dared to direct toward a lauded genius. “Oh, really? And what do you think I’m hiding?” 

“I don’t know,” Kakashi admitted. “But there’s something weird about you, and I’m going to figure it out. You can’t hide it from me. I know you’re faking being weak. You could be top of the class if you wanted to.” 

“And, what? You can’t handle the thought that someone might be stronger than the great genius, Hatake Kakashi?” Obito sneered. 

Kakashi rolled his eyes. First his dad and now this guy too... Why did they keep going back to that? He knew plenty of people were stronger than him. He was still a kid, after all, and most adults could beat him if they were serious. That gap would close in the future, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t still be those stronger than him. His father, the Hokage... there were many people even Kakashi couldn’t quite imagine matching up to. 

That another kid his age might be better than him was a strange thought, but Kakashi didn’t discount it. That wasn’t the issue at all. 

The issue was... it was... well, he couldn’t explain it. But it was something specifically about Obito. 

“It’s not because you’re stronger! It’s because you’re weird!” Kakashi insisted. “You’re hiding something!” 

“And I’m telling you, I’m not! Just get over yourself!” Obito shouted back, finally losing his temper. “Stop following me around, you brat!” 

Crossing his arms, Kakashi stared back stonily. “Make me.” 

“Fine! Then I’ll—!” Halfway through whatever he planned to say, Obito stopped suddenly. Gritting his teeth, he shut his eyes and sucked in a heavy breath. His shoulders shook as he reigned himself in. “Forget it!” he snapped finally. “Just stay away from me!” 

“Or you’ll kill me?” Kakashi guessed. 

He hadn’t missed that. It was strange for Obito to hold himself back from getting into a fight with Kakashi. Gai certainly didn’t have any issue going at Kakashi, and every bully he’d ever met went at him with their fists swinging, trying to prove how much better than him they were. And it wasn’t as if adult shinobi didn’t lash out often too. 

Why would a kid make such a point of holding back? 

He was worried about going too far if he let himself start. 

Kakashi was on to him! 

It didn’t occur to him to be genuinely afraid, nor did he understand the gravity of the situation, based on his assumptions. In the end, Kakashi was still a very young child, and there were some things even a genius intellect couldn’t compensate for. 

There was a long silence as Obito watched him with a cold, unreadable look, weighing something in his mind. Finally, he came to a conclusion. 

And smiled. 

It wasn’t just a smile. Obito beamed, his entire stance shifting into something open and... very like a snake about to strike. Kakashi tensed instinctively, a feeling of dread welling up. 

“I wouldn’t do something like, Kakashi-kun!” Obito trilled in a cheery, high voice. “I mean, we’re such close classmates. Someone would definitely suspect me, if you suddenly disappeared! It would be terrible if someone thought that I’m not a good boy!” 

Wh....

WHAT?! 

Clutching a kunai, Kakashi jumped back, as if he had been attacked. 

No, an attack would have been better than this. This was just  _ too  _ weird! This, this kind of psychological warfare!

Obito smiled brightly. “I mean,” he went on, “what if my terrible secret was exposed? What if someone realized that I’m really an international criminal, posing as an Academy student? 

...His tone was extremely heavy with sarcasm. If it had been anyone else that heard him, they would have thought he had lost his patience and was outright mocking his classmate for his unreasonable suspicions. It was the obvious conclusion, and the one Obito had intended. 

However, that wasn’t how Kakashi saw it. 

Because this was... not what he’d expected, but it made sense! 

So it was like that. Finally, Kakashi understood what his instincts had been telling him. He clenched his fists excitedly, even as his eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

“So you admit it!” he declared, making Obito freeze and look at him with a growing sense of unease. “You’re an infiltrator! But you won’t get away with it!” 

“Oh, really? Do you think you can stop me?” Obito shot back, quickly hiding his disquiet under a persistent smile. 

“You said yourself you can’t do anything to me!” Kakashi said. “If you do anything, you’ll be suspected, and now that I know, I’ll—” 

“You’ll tell an adult? You think anyone will believe you?” 

Kakashi’s mouth dropped open, under his mask. Because that was true. 

Would anyone believe him? His father hadn’t taken him seriously at all. And the teachers at the Academy... they didn’t even notice the things so obviously — to him — off about Obito in the first place. None of them cared enough to notice. They would surely write Kakashi off as just jealous or just causing trouble or some other nonsense. 

Adults were often quite dismissive of Kakashi, since he was still just a young child, no matter how brilliant. He could imagine all too easily the same thing happening again. 

“Ha, ha, ha,” Obito laughed rather falsely but with a grin. “Go ahead and try, Kakashi-kun! You never know when my evil plans might come to fruition!” 

“I— I— I’ll stop you!” Kakashi blurted out. “I won’t let you get away with it, you’ll see!” 

With that bold statement, he jumped into the trees and retreated quickly. He had a lot to think about and plans to make. 

“Bye-bye~!” Obito’s mocking, cheery voice followed him as he fled. 

As soon as Kakashi was out of range, Obito’s expression dropped, leaving behind only blank scorn and disinterest, even more lifeless than his usual gloomy mien. Playing up the idiot persona was more exhausting than he remembered. He’s been right to decide against trying to use it day to day. 

Since summer vacation was about to start, there was no reason for Obito to let Kakashi see him even once for the next month. He didn’t have much hope that Kakashi would just forget him during that time, but with some luck, leaving him to stew in his frustration would drive him to actually try blurting out his supposed suspicions. Any adult would immediately reprimand him, which would only be worse if Kakashi tried to take his paranoid stalking any further, and eventually even that stubborn brat would give up. 

Obito hoped he would give up. Otherwise, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could control himself. 

~.~

Unfortunately, there was one adult Obito completely underestimated. 

But to be fair, there had been no way for him to account for Sakumo, who watched with both confusion and growing amusement as Kakashi wound himself up like a spring, tighter and tighter, as summer vacation progressed. 

“...So,” he said finally, unable to hold back anymore, “is it that Uchiha boy again?” 

Kakashi looked up from the notebook he had been poring over with fixated attention — containing what appeared to be a map of Konoha, with a mass of unclear annotations — and peered at Sakumo in a rather wild-eyed way. 

“Yeah, it’s him,” Kakashi admitted. “I can’t find him at all, no matter where I look! But I have to because... because...” 

Uncharacteristically uncertain, he glanced at Sakumo and quickly looked away. Watching his son fidget, absorbed in some intense internal debate, Sakumo prompted, “Because?” 

His expression extremely serious, Kakashi leaned close and said, like imparting a great secret, “It’s because he’s actually a criminal and an infiltrator! And he’s probably working on some evil plan against Konoha!” 

It took the entirety of Sakumo’s extensive skill and experience as a shinobi to keep his face straight. “Is that so?” he said faintly, lifting one hand to cover his mouth — mostly to hide the shadow of a grin he couldn’t quite repress. 

“He told me so!” Kakashi confirmed. “He said no one would believe me, but it’s true!” 

Sakumo had to close his eyes for a moment, vividly imagining the scene. His imagination was almost entirely spot on, despite having never this Uchiha Obito. He could guess exactly the kind of tone that had been used... it seemed Kakashi’s potential friend? rival? had a sense of humor. 

“I see,” Sakumo said with as much self-control as he could. 

It wasn’t quite enough. “You  _ don’t _ believe me!” Kakashi accused. “He was right!” 

Rather than being discouraged, this seemed to only fire him up more. Clenching his fists, he glared at his notebook, as if trying to materialize answers with force of will. 

“Now, now,” Sakumo said, holding his hands up placatingly. “It’s not good to accuse a fellow Konoha nin... uh, Academy student, rather, without proof. Before believing something like that, I need to investigate it myself. I can’t be careless. It’s not because I don’t believe you, Kakashi.” 

Petting his son on the head, he smiled at the way Kakashi huffed. “Fine,” the boy allowed, with poor grace, “I guess it would be... useful... if you help.” 

The truth was Sakumo didn’t believe him at all. But it was rare to see Kakashi so fired up, and it was also the first time he had ever taken an interest in someone his age. Whatever direction this took, it would be better for Sakumo to supervise, in any case. And... he was a little curious, about this little Uchiha genius who was causing so much unrest in Kakashi’s mental state. 

“Well then, let’s start with a briefing of your efforts so far...” 

The roadblock that Kakashi had hit was immediate and precisely as he said. Since they had parted on the last day of the first term, he hadn’t been able to find Obito at all. Since Kakashi had never been able to keep track of him outside school hours, this wasn’t particularly strange, but since Kakashi was absolutely convinced that his classmate was undertaking some kind of sabotage or spying or other evil plot, it was absolutely imperative to change this state of affairs. 

Sakumo was mostly just impressed. Kakashi’s tracking skills were better than most adults. It would take at least a chuunin’s stealth to evade him consistently. 

He was somewhat less impressed that Kakashi had broken into the Academy personal records to find out where Obito lived. 

“You couldn’t have asked someone?” 

“No one except the teacher knows,” Kakashi said. “And the teacher wouldn’t tell me.” 

Probably because it was, no matter how lackluster the student, a matter concerning the Uchiha clan. 

“I didn’t leave any trace,” Kakashi pointed out, fidgeting. That wasn’t quite the issue, but it was unfortunately just how a budding shinobi could be expected to look at it. The village was full of “as long as no one finds out” situations. Sakumo decided to let it go. It was a conversation for another time. 

The problem was that, even after finding the right house — sneaking into the Uchiha district, at that — Kakashi hadn’t been able to actually tail Obito from it either. Even staking out the place from before dawn, he had missed when Obito left, though he did leave every day to train. This much Kakashi had confirmed by getting the elderly grandmother living with Obito to let him in, under the pretext of being a friendly classmate come to visit. 

After that, Kakashi had decided to try finding where Obito trained. A secretive, supposedly criminal person like that would have to train somewhere without much chance of running into anyone else by chance, he reasoned. 

He had copied out a map of Konoha and all its training grounds and unoccupied areas, and organized a search grid... which hadn’t yielded any results either. 

On the whole, it was an impressively methodical effort for such a young child. Kakashi was indeed a genius, and he would doubtlessly become the kind of shinobi that was fearsome not just for his skills with jutsu or weapons but for his sharp, unrelenting mind. 

However, that was still in the future. 

For now, Kakashi was still unfortunately coming up short in some basic areas. 

“If he’s that much better at stealth, he’ll probably be able to notice you coming,” Sakumo said, trying to make his words as gentle as possible. “So even if you find where he trains, he’ll just hide his presence before you get close enough.”

“Guh...” 

With a sound of either frustration or defeat, Kakashi slumped. He also realized this, but he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it. 

“Well, there’s only one thing to do from here,” Sakumo went on, his voice taking on a cheerful note that immediately made Kakashi perk up. “It’s time to see if his stealth is better than  _ mine.” _

~.~

Hatake Sakumo, Konoha’s White Fang, was a famous and powerful shinobi touted to be on the same level as the Legendary Sannin. Put another way, for him to face a Kage would not be suicide. 

Although he didn’t believe his son’s wild assertions, he earnestly put forth his best effort as he staked out a certain small home in the Uchiha district, Kakashi clinging silently to his back. Against Sakumo’s impressive skills in both stealth and tracking, it wasn’t a guarantee that Obito would have been able to evade him even if he had been fully on his guard — but that wasn’t the case to begin with. 

In fact, it didn’t particularly matter to Obito whether he was observed by someone. His physical nature was exactly as he appeared, and furthermore, he wasn’t doing anything worth hiding. If anything, acting on his guard too much would only make him more suspicious. His reason for avoiding Kakashi was because being around the child version of his teammate made his emotions roil too much, not because having him around would be dangerous. 

In other words, Obito remained unaware as Sakumo tailed him from the moment he left home to the moment he returned, late that evening. But even if he had been aware, he probably wouldn’t have acted any differently. 

“Hm,” Sakumo made a soft, thoughtful sound as their target shut the front door and made his way through the house to his room. “I think we can call it a day here. What do you think, Kakashi?” 

Kakashi groaned slightly in response, wiggling where he still hung clinging to Sakumo’s back gamely. It had been a long day, and he was far from accustomed to this kind of endurance-based mission. 

He staggered, stiff-legged, once Sakumo set him back on his feet, safely back home, and nearly toppled over. It was lucky they had some leftovers that could be easily reheated. The food brought some life back into Kakashi’s slumped posture and slack expression, and he dug in with an increasing fervor until his bowl was picked completely clean twice. 

“He  _ is _ a little strange, isn’t he?” Sakumo said finally. 

“Dad, you noticed something?” Kakashi leaned forward attentively. 

“Maybe,” Sakumo said. “What about you?” 

“Well, that’s...” Kakashi cringed a little. “I already knew he was faking at Academy, about being deadlast in class. He’s always pretending to trip or something, but he’s not actually clumsy, and when he threw a kunai once today, it was dead center, even though he’s always almost failing the accuracy tests. But aside from that...” 

Sulkily, he glared down at his empty bowl and neatly aligned chopsticks. Aside from concealing his abilities, Obito hadn’t done anything suspicious. There was nothing to prove him a criminal and an infiltrator, rather than a genius with an unfortunate attitude. 

Sakumo hummed in agreement. Kakashi was right — if anything, his mysterious classmate moved with more surety than a child his age should have. But more than that... 

“It depends on whether his training routine changes,” he said, “but it’s strange that he was only doing stamina building. He didn’t practice weapons, or taijutsu, or ninjutsu at all today. Only heavy taijutsu specialists focus on gaining muscle to that extent, and even they would practice forms too.” 

“I think he practices chakra control in class,” Kakashi said, propping his head up with one arm. 

“It’s not a linear connection, but building stamina can also increase the amount of chakra you have,” Sakumo said. “That seems more likely for an Uchiha.” 

But even so, it was a strange training menu. 

“Either way, his focus is on building his strength and developing his body and not his skills,” Kakashi said. “Because he already has all the skills he needs, since he’s not actually just a kid!”

Clearing his throat lightly, Sakumo said, “That’s one possibility, I suppose. But, Kakashi... I’ve been wondering this for a while. What do you think his situation actually is? If you say he’s an infiltrator, do you think he’s an imposter only taking on Uchiha Obito’s identity?” 

“He has to be an adult, right? He said he’s only posing as an Academy student,” Kakashi said, crossing his arms and frowning. “That’s what makes the most sense. Otherwise, it’s too strange for him to be this good at everything. I know I’m only this strong because you trained me, but he doesn’t have anyone supporting him. Even if he’s just naturally more gifted than me, he can’t have figured it all out so well on his own.” 

No, it didn’t precisely ‘make sense.’ But Sakumo had to admit there was... something to what Kakashi said. 

It really was a bit strange. 

There were geniuses who learned at an amazing pace and whose thinking abilities developed beyond their peers. There were also those with finely tuned instincts, who could intuitively figure out seemingly complex concepts and processes. Those could even be the same person. In the world of shinobi, judging someone by their age was a fast way to get killed. 

And if Obito had been even a couple years older, Sakumo would have left it at that. 

But for a five year old that had only just started Academy, who had no family and no apparent close relatives or a teacher to even point him in the right direction... Shinobi skills were still skills. They had to be taught. Even Kakashi, who had indeed been trained practically from infancy by Sakumo, still fell short in places where real experience was required and simply talent could not substitute. 

Not that Sakumo thought Kakashi’s... “theory” was correct, but certainly there was some secret to his mysterious classmate. 

And shinobi did love secrets. Figuring them out, specifically. 

“It does seem unlikely that he learned from books or training manuals,” Sakumo mused aloud. “Stealth and awareness of your surroundings are particularly hard to pick up without to teach you, or at least someone to observe. Same for awareness in combat...” 

“Yes! That’s exactly it!” Kakashi agreed, clenching his fists excitedly. 

“But there is one other possibility, you know,” Sakumo went on with a smile, his eyes narrowing teasingly. “He could have a mentor. Someone not directly related to him, but who taught him the basics. From there, everything else can be explained with natural talent and a reclusive personality.” 

“A... mentor?” 

That seemed to be all Kakashi could say right away. He opened and closed his mouth several times, cycling through gripping his chin, crossing his arms, and turning aside, all deep in thought. Sakumo could almost see the steam rising from his ears. 

“That doesn’t make sense either!” he finally declared, making his father lean in with bright interest, curious about the rebuttal he’d come up with. “Because,” Kakashi went on, “if he had someone like that, he’d want to make them proud. He wouldn’t flunk every class on purpose.” 

He said it with absolute certainty, without even considering the possibility that might be someone who doesn’t feel this way or circumstances could exist that might change the situation.

Because that was how  _ he _ felt, and surely everyone else felt the same. 

How cute. Sakumo tried to hide his smile, his eyes twinkling merrily. 

“But perhaps his mentor would like to conceal his involvement or his identity,” he suggested. “If Obito-kun excelled, it would invite questions and scrutiny... like you are doing.” 

The last remark went over Kakashi’s head. 

“You mean... a conspirator?” he guessed instead, making a complete leap in a very different direction. 

“...Well, you never know,” Sakumo said. “But for now, I think it’s time for bed.” 

Ruffling Kakashi’s hair, he pulled his son up and started toward the bedroom. “But Dad...” Kakashi protested, sounding quite his age for once. 

“For now, there isn’t nearly enough intel to make a judgement, don’t you think?” Sakumo said. “My next mission is scheduled two days from now. Until then, I’ll help you, how about that?” 

With a last quiet grumble, Kakashi settled down and let himself be carried to bed, something he had resisted for the last year, since he decided he was old enough to manage by himself. Sakumo had to admit he had enjoyed spending more time with his son — even if the reason was quite silly. Kakashi’s serious little face as he tried to puzzle out how to fit his impossible theories with reality was especially cute. 

But... As he silently shut the door to Kakashi’s room, Sakumo’s smile faded. 

He had said it mostly in jest, but the possibility of someone teaching Obito was the most likely. Someone who simultaneously asked him to conceal his abilities... combined with a young genius that was extremely isolated and lacked any connections with both adults and children his own age, and an Uchiha at that... 

There were a few ominous possibilities that came to mind. 

Although it was just as likely to be nothing sinister, it would be better to make sure. Just in case. 

And if Kakashi got closer to his classmate in the process, well, that wasn’t a bad thing either. 

Just, Sakumo would need to remember to caution him against taking his investigations too far. Following someone around was par for the course where shinobi were concerned, but Kakashi was still young enough that he might get carried away and do something drastic trying to draw out a reaction. 

It was all cute until the school building got set on fire. As an off-hand example which had certainly never occurred to Sakumo himself. 

~.~

Summer vacation did nothing to put Kakashi off, Obito was annoyed but not entirely surprised to find out, when the Academy resumed for its second term. 

Shooting him the same narrow-eyed looks of suspicion that were hard to take seriously on such a small, round face, Kakashi slid into the seat next to Obito and studied him with a lot more concentration than his actual school work. Obito ignored him as best he could, knowing there was no point in trying to change seats or shake him off. Closing his eyes, he focused on his chakra instead. After five years, he had more or less gained control of what pitiful reserves he had, but there was still a certain lingering sense of strangeness that he attributed to the mismatch between his mental age and his physical. 

At least he could put the useless time spent in classes to some scant use working on his precision. He would have liked to avoid Academy altogether, but refusing to go would have drawn attention from the clan and he would have been pressured into attending anyway. Skipping classes had the same issue, rather inconveniently — pathetic report cards could be ignored, but after a certain number of absences, the teachers would report to his clan, who would track him down for a reprimand. 

Faking his death and leaving the village cleanly before ever entering the system would have been ideal, but with this weak body… 

The Second War had only just wound down, and the situation outside the village remained fraught with tension and violence. The embers of the Third War were already burning, and it would begin in only a handful of years. Until he could at least reliably use Kamui, Obito couldn’t risk throwing himself to the winds. 

Although he fully intended to alter his body into something more suitable once he joined Madara and Zetsu, he needed to survive the journey to Mountains’ Graveyard first. 

He’d need to survive introducing himself to Zetsu as well, of course. 

Madara and Zetsu... 

Obito was pulled out of his thoughts by the weight of a stare heavier than the usual scrutiny he had gotten used to ignoring. Turning, he stared back at Kakashi, who narrowed his eyes as if to say, ‘You were just scheming something evil, weren’t you?’ 

Brat. Just for that, Obito flashed him the brightest, cheeriest grin he could manage. It made Kakashi jerk back, looking horrified beyond words, as if he’d seen a ghost — again, like the last time. The difference between Obito’s usual demeanor and the mask of a happy idiot was apparently just too shocking. Too bad it wasn’t enough to make him stay away...

The meaningless lessons passed unremarkably, day after day, until another two weeks had gone by. 

Kakashi watched him every day, but he didn’t do much else, so Obito had gotten better at treating him as just a background fixture… which just happened to shoot him suspicious, piercing looks. But that day, Kakashi’s behavior was just slightly off. It was nothing concrete enough to put into words, but it was a change — and that set Obito on edge, focusing his awareness on the child version of his once teammate. 

When had he gotten attuned enough to the brat to notice such a minute difference anyway? 

The kid had probably just gotten a stomachache. 

“Everyone!” the teacher called out as the class finally began. “Today is an important day! Does anyone know why?” 

Obito carefully kept his expression blank, fighting down a surge of paranoia, but he didn’t miss the way Kakashi cringed slightly. 

“Today is Kakashi-kun’s birthday!” the man at the podium went on, immediately drawing a wave of whispers and excited looks from the other students. “Everyone, let’s wish Kakashi a happy birthday!” 

They didn’t celebrate every birthday like this, of course. There was no doubt that a number of them had passed by during the first term and over the summer break. But Kakashi was a special matter, after all. He was a rising star. Who didn’t want to suck up to him? And that included many of the teachers too. 

But still… 

So it was already September 15? Obito had fallen out of the habit of tracking dates, since his rebirth. 

“Happy Birthday!” the class chorused, making Kakashi cringe and glower even more. Gai, unmistakable even without the full shape of his future bowlcut, gave a thumbs up and a beaming grin. 

Even as the teacher smiled and called for them to settle down for the day’s lessons, many of the children continued to look back over their shoulder toward where Kakashi and Obito sat in the back, smiling and whispering among themselves. When it was finally time for a break, the entire class swarmed Kakashi, leaving Obito free to slip away. In the next class period, he even managed to claim a different seat far from his determined watchdog for the first time in months, while Kakashi was still set upon from all sides. The furious looks he received over the heads of several classmates were somewhat amusing. 

What he did not expect in any way was for Kakashi to end the last lesson of the day by grabbing Obito’s hand. 

...This kid. Wasn’t he getting a little too clingy? No, that wasn’t it... Too presumptuous? Too careless with an international terrorist with a body count in the thousands? 

He didn’t have too much time to consider it, or the best way to react. As soon as the teacher began to dismiss them, Kakashi jumped to his feet, dragging Obito along, and headed straight for the classroom door. It was probably a wise and timely tactical retreat — several of their classmates were only moments behind in their attempts to converge on Kakashi again with renewed congratulations and invitations to celebrate together. 

Obito didn’t want to get caught up in that either, so he willingly kept pace with Kakashi’s swift departure. 

He had intended to pull his hand free once they were out of the building, if only to avoid Kakashi making a fuss while they were still inside. However, catching sight of the person waiting beside the Academy entrance made him hesitate long enough to lose his chance. 

‘Huh. So he’s still alive...’

Hatake Sakumo was standing underneath the tree in front of the schoolhouse. His expression brightened immediately as he caught sight of Kakashi — and Obito. It was unfortunate. While avoiding a child who wasn’t even a genin yet, genius or not, was a simple matter, slipping away from a famously skilled jounin was not something Obito was willing to risk trying. 

This was Obito’s first time seeing Sakumo, in this life or the previous one. Between a high-profile jounin’s mission load and Kakashi’s independent character, he had never been seen walking his son to school or picking him up afterwards. 

But it seemed he had made an exception for Kakashi’s birthday. 

Sakumo smiled and waved. Resigning himself to this, Obito let Kakashi drag him closer. 

“Hello! You must Obito-kun,” Sakumo said. “I’m Kakashi’s father, Sakumo. I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

Somehow, that was a bit ominous. And annoying. 

Glancing at him, Obito decided not to answer. It wasn’t as if he cared about being seen as rude. 

“I know Kakashi can be a handful at times, so thank you for sticking with him,” Sakumo went on, apparently unperturbed — and spouting nonsense. “This unfriendly kid probably didn’t tell you, but today is his birthday. Why don’t you come to celebrate with us?” 

Obito wasted precious moments shooting him a surprised, searching look, trying to figure out if it was a setup of some sort. 

Or... did it really look like he and Kakashi were... friends? 

What  _ exactly  _ did Kakashi tell him?!

“Yeah, he’ll come,” Kakashi said. 

“Great! Then it’s decided!” Sakumo beamed. 

“W-wait, what?” Obito protested, belatedly. 

It seemed Sakumo wasn’t entirely airheaded. He had to be at least somewhat aware that things weren’t as simple as two awkward children being too clumsy to make friends properly — he laughed at having caught Obito out and tricked him into finally saying something. He definitely found Obito’s glower to be funny too. 

A five year old’s soft face just wasn’t made to be intimidating. 

For a moment, Obito considered just leaving. 

But one look at Kakashi made it clear he was determined to drag Obito along — probably to have the “criminal” observed by his father, who on the other hand just thought this was all very amusing. It was hard to tell what he’d do if Obito tried to just run off, especially with Sakumo right there. 

Even though Obito didn’t care about appearing rude, there was still a certain level he had to maintain to avoid being too memorable or causing a commotion. The most important thing was to avoid drawing attention to himself. 

It didn’t really matter, did it? He didn’t remember the exact timing anymore, but Hatake Sakumo would be dead within the year. And after that, Kakashi himself would probably… no longer have time for this kind of childish messing around. 

He didn’t need to say anything. His capitulation was obvious. 

“How wonderful. I think this is the first time you’re having someone over. Right, Kakashi?” Sakumo said, beaming.

Kakashi looked unbearably smug. It really made Obito want to punch his face in... A strangely nostalgic feeling. 

This wasn’t the first time Obito had seen Kakashi’s family home, but the sight of it somehow still took him aback. He knew that his old teammate had later moved into an apartment more fitting for a perpetual bachelor without any interest in guests, and this house had become something of the distant past that had become almost entirely faded to Obito, who cast away his previous identity and gave himself completely to the completion of the Moon’s Eye plan. 

A nostalgic place, a nostalgic feeling… he didn’t like it. There was a sense of restless itching that had been building for a long while, ever since he realised what kind of strange situation he had ended up in. 

How had he ended up returning here, to a place he’d thrown away? Not just Kakashi’s old home, but to his own house and to Konoha in general? 

He felt certain — he needed to leave soon. But he also couldn't leave, not as he was. 

Everything was out of place. 

The meal Sakumo had prepared was not extravagant, but it was an impressive spread, especially for an active shinobi. It was easy to see where Kakashi had gotten his rarely used but well-polished cooking skills. There was just the right amount of food that Obito couldn’t tell whether it had been prepared with leftovers for two in mind, or with the expectation of a guest. It didn’t really matter, but it was a little vexing. 

“Kakashi mentions you pretty often, Obito-kun,” Sakumo revealed cheerfully, as they settled around the small kitchen table and began to eat. “Like how you’re stronger than him. I was surprised to hear that, I admit. I thought our Kakashi was the most precocious genius in the village.” 

“I never said he’s stronger,” Kakashi grumbled under his breath, habitually holding up his bowl to cover his face. It wasn’t something Obito hadn’t seen before, but it still took an annoying amount of concentration not to look. 

“I don’t like being around other people,” Obito said bluntly, “so I don’t want to stand out. I’d rather keep to myself.” 

“I can see your point there,” Sakumo admitted, smiling wryly. “It can be tiring. And of course, being noticed too much would be bad for your evil plans, right?” 

He said in such an even tone, with such an unwaveringly casual expression that Obito almost missed it, until Kakashi choked on his rice and began to cough harshly. So the dumb brat had tried to rat him out to his father, only for it to be treated as a joke, he thought, shooting a quick glance at Sakumo — who, judging by his smile, was enjoying himself quite a bit. 

“That’s right,” Obito agreed, his tone bland and painfully sarcastic. “I need to bide my time while I’m still weak.” 

“Mm, mm,” Sakumo made a sound of agreement, nodding along. “But I’ve been very curious. What exactly is your evil scheme?” 

Clapping his hands over his mouth to keep himself quiet, Kakashi also turned to watch him with keen interest and anticipation. It was an absurd scene, sitting between a dead man and a child who would one day grow up to be the person Obito hated the most and yet was closest to. 

“I’m going to put the entire world under a genjutsu,” he said, without quite deciding to, “by reflecting my Sharingan off the moon.” 

“...Eh?” 

Even Sakumo couldn’t maintain his composure at that, his eyebrows shooting up and his mouth dropping open slightly in shock. 

Obito couldn’t judge. He suddenly found it hard to keep a straight face himself. 

He’d explained the Moon’s Eye plan to others before. There had been the rare few who had been his followers in truth, like Kisame, and there had been the Kage Summit as well. It had felt... grandiose then, like a triumph. And the disbelief of the people below him, the supposed strongest of the shinobi world, had been heady. It was proof he had gone beyond them and understood a greater truth. 

It didn’t feel like that, sitting in an ordinary home, at an ordinary table, with an ordinary meal shared with two ordinary people. 

The childish desire to insist that he was serious, that he would really do it, rose up before Obito viciously squished it down. He wasn’t a child, no matter what he looked like at the moment. 

“Ah. Well. That’s... haha,” Sakumo tried valiantly to stifle the laughter bubbling up, but he failed in the end and a few quiet chuckles slipped through. “That’s a very impressive plan,” he finally managed. 

Kakashi, who had been staring at Obito with silent disbelief, couldn’t take it anymore. “He, he’s obviously just making that up!” he protested. “To... to throw us off his real plan...” He finished with far less certainty. 

It seemed that a world-wide genjutsu using the moon was a bridge too far even for Kakashi. 

Maybe Obito should have tried that sooner. 

“How devious!” Sakumo agreed. “I suppose it’s our loss this time!” 

When he stood to grab something from the kitchen, Obito took the chance to flash a blinding grin and a double peace sign at Kakashi — making him predictably jump and hiss, like a wet cat. 

The resulting glares that were levelled at him for the rest of the meal were the real victory. 

“...Heh.” 

It was only as he was walking home alone that Obito realized he’d started to smile to himself, if faintly and smugly. Had he actually let down his guard...? Running a hand over his face, he was startled all over again by its soft smoothness. His fingers lingered on the skin around his left eye, still his own. 

He couldn’t forget. This reality was just an illusion. No matter how peaceful the days seemed, the truth was that war and suffering were just around the corner. 

Yes, it would be soon, when the shinobi system and this broken village showed their true face. 

~.~ 

The change came less abruptly than Obito expected. 

Since Kakashi’s birthday, he had thought about it sometimes. Sometime within the next few months, Sakumo would take on a critical mission, entrusted to the famous White Fang... only to fail, choosing his teammates’ lives over the objective. The village would suffer a major setback as a result, and his reputation would plummet. He, who had once been regarded as a hero and a source of pride for Konoha, would become shunned and ostracized, until he chose to take his own life to atone for his mistake. 

His “mistake.” 

As a young child, Kakashi was an annoying brat who looked down on others for being unable to keep up with a genius like him. He was prickly and bad at expressing his emotions, and he had no interests outside training. In some ways, his core personality was quite similar to the boy Obito had once been on a team with — in the moments when then-Kakashi had forgotten to think about rules all the time. It hadn’t been hard to think of them as the same person, just smaller and untouched by endless tragedy. 

But in some ways, he was also very different. There was his arrogant disregard for rules or instructions if he thought he was in the right, of course, but also and more notably, he had an edge of something almost like heroism, the ability to earnestly stand up and declare that he would always protect his comrades — and to make others believe in him with his conviction. It was no wonder that their entire class was completely enamored with him. 

And Obito had thought... well, he’d expected the change between the two to be immediate and unmistakable. He had thought that, one day, he would come to the endless drudgery of Academy and Kakashi would just... become the boy he remembered, hollow-eyed and brittle. 

It was probably because that’s how it was for him. In an instance, the child Obito had been was crushed and a completely different being remained in his place. 

But when the time came, he almost didn’t recognize it. 

One day, Kakashi had come to class looking troubled. Not in some obvious way, but Obito had been able to tell from the faint change in the furrow of his brows and the slight tension in his posture. When he’d caught sight of Obito, it had been mostly pushed aside by their usual interactions, but it had lingered throughout the day. 

Something like that had happened a few times before, and Obito only noted in the most distant way. He’d never asked, of course, but he could only assume that there were times when Sakumo was late returning from a mission or had come back hurt. It might have also been something to do with Kakashi’s dogs, if he already had them, or with another figure in his life. Strange as it was to think, but it was possible that Kakashi did have other connections which Obito just didn’t know about. 

It had always resolved itself soon enough. And, in any case, it didn’t have anything to do with Obito to begin with. 

That faint disquiet lingered, day after day, and slowly began to grow. 

The whispers had probably started somewhere around then too, but since Obito avoided interacting with anyone else in the village, he only noticed it after a while — when some of their classmates, previously so smitten with Kakashi, began to keep their distance, shooting him uncertain looks. 

Obito had… well, he had turned to look at Kakashi, trying to understand what had prompted the change. Kakashi looked not particularly different. Just tense and unhappy, despite his attempts to hide it under a veneer of indifference. 

Then, Kakashi turned, meeting Obito’s gaze, and something flashed across his face. And Obito understood. 

Oh. So it had already started. 

Something of it must have shown, because Kakashi tensed so abruptly it was almost a flinch, and his expression furrowed with sharp anger. 

He looked away quickly. But under the table, his hands clenched into tight fists, trembling slightly. 

Obito didn’t say anything, then or at any point during the day. It didn’t have anything to do with him, and what did he care about the fate of one man? It was nothing more than proof of the true nature of this reality. The only unfortunate thing was that Kakashi wouldn’t understand that even after this. 

It didn’t matter. 

There was no point in feeling restless. There was nothing for him to do. 

Even though Obito told himself this firmly, the sense of agitation didn’t fade. 

Still, he was used to continuing on regardless of how he felt, so the one who snapped first was Kakashi. 

At the end of the day, once classes had ended, Obito headed out like always. He preferred to leave through the training fields in the back, rather than through the main entrance, avoiding the crowds out front. After a while, he had gotten used to Kakashi following him to the edge of the forest there — not because Kakashi gave up once they reached the trees, but because he couldn’t follow Obito after that — so he barely noticed when the other boy fell in step behind him. 

He did notice when Kakashi suddenly stopped, once they were alone out on the practice field. 

Thinking back on it later, Obito wasn’t sure why he stopped as well and turned to look behind him. 

“...So?” Kakashi demanded, with a cold, sharp glare. 

Obito raised his eyebrows, genuinely uncertain what he was getting at. 

“You know what happened,” Kakashi snapped, growing more agitated at what he must have taken as Obito playing stupid. “Right?” 

“I hadn’t heard, but I can guess more or less what happened,” Obito admitted. 

“So you must be happy, right?” Kakashi insisted. “Since Konoha suffered such a big loss!”

“I don’t really care,” Obito said frankly. He didn’t even know what had actually occurred, as a result of Sakumo’s failed mission. He also knew that Konoha would survive, continuing on its corrupt, destructive path. 

However, that answer only further infuriated Kakashi. “Don’t pretend! You’re an enemy of Konoha, so you’re happy, right? Or... did you have something to do with this? You, did you... to Dad...” 

Obito snorted. “You’re blaming me? How stupid are you? I didn’t do anything. He just did what he thought was right, and this is the result. Just accept that your father failed, and now your precious village is going to kill him for it.” 

...He probably shouldn’t have said that. Seeing the way Kakashi blanched, eyes widening, Obito realized he had perhaps become too accustomed to bluntness, at least where Kakashi was concerned. It was easy to get carried away, when speaking to a child and more importantly  _ as _ a child whose words wouldn’t be taken seriously. 

“K-kill... Failing a mission isn’t a crime!” Kakashi insisted, his voice shaking as if he was trying to convince himself. He was still so young, after all, and his world had been upended without warning. No matter how outstanding his self-control or how mature his behavior, he couldn’t be unaffected. “There’s no reason why—” 

“Not like that,” Obito sighed, unwilling to let him continue misunderstanding. 

Even Konoha was not insane enough to directly execute a skilled jounin like the White Fang just for a failed mission. 

Although Obito’s words lessened the frantic edge to Kakashi’s reaction, his clenched hands still shook at his sides and his glare was more desperate than angry. “Then what?” he demanded. 

However, Obito only crossed his arms and refused to answer. He’d already said too much. It was better to remain silent. 

Understanding his meaning, Kakashi hissed in frustration, but he didn’t try to press on. He had calmed enough to think and realize that Obito could and would take off at any moment, and chasing him would be as impossible as always. 

For that matter, why was he still here? 

“Do you...” Kakashi trailed off for a moment, suddenly avoiding Obito’s eyes. “Do you think so too?” 

“What?” 

“Do you think he’s a traitor to the village?” 

“Hah!” Without meaning to, Obito let out a sharp, derisive bark of laughter. “Is that the kind of bullshit they’re spouting? They’re going that far? How stupid...” 

He couldn’t help sneering, real venom leaking into his tone. It was far more emotion and personality than he had shown to anyone since his rebirth in the past, and it was probably another misstep — it had to appear far out of place on a child. But the only one there was Kakashi, who already had a head full of nonsense where Obito was concerned. And once he had started, the old poisonous fury quickly began to well up in Obito’s gut. 

“This village is always full of hypocrisy. Following the Will of Fire means to give your life for the village, but all that means is that everyone is disposable,” he went on. “Every person should be willing and able to bear the burden of an entire village, but the village cannot endure to protect even a single one. Even though it was founded for that very reason, it’s become nothing but another part of the shinobi system’s spiral of misery. This is the reality of the world that cannot be... changed...” 

He was telling all this to a five year old brat. Worse, he was telling all this to a five year old version of Kakashi, who had never understood a single thing no matter how much Konoha took from him. 

Trailing off, Obito clicked his tongue, irritated with his own foolishness. 

“Forget it,” he said sharply. 

“No!” Kakashi, who had been watching him with a focused but clearly uncomprehending expression, protested immediately. “What do you mean by all that?” 

_ “Forget it,” _ Obito repeated. 

“Then what did you—” 

Turning on his heel, Obito vanished into the trees with a burst of speed. Two shunsin back to back, and he knew Kakashi would no longer be able to follow him. It wasn’t nearly as good as Kamui, but it was more than enough. 

...Until the next day, when they’d see each other at the Academy again. Rolling his eyes, Obito stifled a groan. 

Being a child again was absolutely disgusting. He couldn’t wait to leave this place. 

~.~

The first thing Kakashi did when he returned home was to wrap his arms as far around his father’s waist as he could and press his face into his stomach. Sakumo hummed in surprise, but he didn’t question it or even lightly tease Kakashi like he usually would. Slowly, his arms came around Kakashi’s shoulders and he tentatively hugged him in return. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, Kakashi tried not to think about how much thinner and bonier his father felt, or his slumped, wearied posture, or the deep circles under his eyes. Sakumo... hadn’t been well for a while now. And slowly, Kakashi had started to wonder if maybe it wasn’t because of guilt, because everyone was right his strong, amazing father had actually... 

Failing a mission wasn’t a crime, and it wasn’t a betrayal. Even if he’d made a mistake, he was still the White Fang, one of the strongest jounin in the village. 

He would definitely... definitely...

“...Don’t die...” Kakashi mumbled into Sakumo’s shirt. 

Sakumo made an inquiring sound, but Kakashi only shook his head quickly. It didn’t matter, and he wasn’t going to even consider it. It was just Obito talking nonsense. 

What was even the point of listening to him? He was a weirdo, a liar or a criminal, and although Kakashi wasn’t sure which, he was definitely an untrustworthy liar. The thing with the moon, at least, had to be a big lie. Maybe all of it had been. 

But even so. 

He was the first person who didn’t condemn Sakumo even a little. He didn’t change the subject or try to talk in circles without admitting wrong or right. 

And what he did say was... 

The second thing Kakashi did was pull out a blank notebook and carefully copy down every word, while it was still fresh in his mind. 

Looking over it again, he nodded to himself. Obito had refused to explain, but Kakashi would just have to figure it out on his own. It felt good — grounding — to have a goal to focus on. 

Sakumo had watched curiously after Kakashi had pulled away and settled down to his research, first scribbling away, then digging out a copy of the shinobi handbook, and then even going in search of several other books. Compared to his usual disinterest toward bookwork, which came too easily to him. 

After a while, Sakumo tentatively cleared his throat. “Seems like you learned something interesting at the Academy today,” he said. 

Before, Kakashi would have rolled his eyes and ignored this. His father was perfectly aware that Kakashi considered the Academy almost entirely a waste of time and nothing taught there was new to him or on his level. If there was something he suddenly gained an interest in, it wouldn’t be anything from the official curriculum. Although it was just a conversation starter, Kakashi also thought things like that were too frivolous and annoying. 

But it had been days since Sakumo had tried to start a conversation with him. 

Pausing in his writing, Kakashi looked up. “Yeah, I did,” he said. For a moment, his eyes strayed back to the book he had been taking notes from. “Hey, Dad? Do you know why Konoha was founded?” 

Sakumo’s eyebrows rose. “Why Konoha was founded?” he repeated. “Well, that...” 

Stroking his chin, he paused to gather his thoughts. 

“That was around my parents’ time,” he began slowly, “when they were still very young. My father only participated in a handful of battles before our clan joined Konoha. But by then, he had already lost two siblings in the fighting. It was a chaotic time back then. The clans were constantly at war with each other, and Konoha was founded to bring them together and create a time of peace.” 

Kakashi frowned slightly, listening with close attention. “The village was founded for peace?” 

“That’s right. The clan came together to stop the fighting. Everyone was tired of losing the people they loved,” Sakumo agreed. “Of course... it couldn’t last forever. There was the First Great War right after I was born, and the second one only just ended. But if it’s to protect the village, anyone would gladly...” 

He trailed off, his expression shuttering. 

“...would gladly give their lives.” 

It was easy to guess what he was thinking. Kakashi’s frown deepened, but he still didn’t know what to say to his father at times like these, which had happened all too often recently. 

“So it was founded because everyone wanted to protect their families, right?” he said instead. “And now, everyone fights for the village because they want to protect their comrades.” 

Yes, it was like that. Nodding to himself, he marked it down. 

‘Founded to protect shinobi’

“Well, yes. That’s true,” Sakumo said softly. 

“All the clans came together because the village is stronger than any of them alone,” Kakashi went on. “It’s just like the teamwork stuff we’re always told at Academy.” 

‘Village stronger than clan or person’ 

“Only the village is strong enough to protect everyone, that’s why everyone works to protect it, for each other’s sake. Supporting it — that’s the Will of Fire.” His pen scratched away. “But...”

But... 

_ “But,” _ Kakashi went on, huffing, “it doesn’t mean everyone is disposable.” 

That would be stupid. Obito was stupid. 

“That would be the opposite of the Will of Fire. Everyone protects the village, but when they don’t have enough strength to protect themselves, the village protects them in return. Because it’s strong and that’s why it was founded.” His hand lifted from the paper, and Kakashi looked up at his father. “Right?”

Sakumo’s expression, as he regarded Kakashi, was unreadable. The emotion on his face was something Kakashi was still too young to understand. 

“Kakashi,” Sakumo said, his mouth twisting slightly, “what happened? At the Academy?” 

“Nothing. Just Obito being dumb like usual,” Kakashi said, turning up his nose. 

“Obito-kun, huh...” Letting out a quiet breath, Sakumo unexpectedly smiled and reached out to ruffle Kakashi’s hair. “I’m sorry, Kakashi. It’s been tough for you, hasn’t it? You even asked him for advice.” 

“I didn’t!” he protested immediately. 

He... did, kind of.

Sakumo’s wryly smile only deepened. “So that detached, uncommunicative kid actually said something of his own free will? You must have looked very troubled... It can’t have been easy, recently. Everything changed all of a sudden, and you must be very confused. Because of me... I’m sorry,” he repeated, a note of misery in his voice and made something in Kakashi’s chest twist painfully. 

Obito was stupid and mean, and he had no right to say ‘they’ll kill him for it’ in that detached, calm tone, like it was a foregone truth. What did he know anyway? 

“You just did what you thought was right,” Kakashi muttered. “What’s wrong with that? The village is stronger than any person, so it’ll be fine.” 

“...Yes,” Sakumo said quietly. “Konoha is strong. So, it’ll be fine.” 

He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. 

~.~

Although it was only a little, Obito changed after that. 

He had previously more or less ignored Kakashi unless forced to acknowledge him, but the next morning he studied him for a long moment when Kakashi first came into the classroom and took a seat next to him. It might have been just to see Kakashi’s reaction to their... conversation the day before, but Obito did the same thing — if more subtly — the day after that, and every day afterwards, like he was waiting for something. 

Kakashi eyed him back with an equally assessing gaze, but he still couldn’t figure out anything about this weird classmate of his. 

It was a little depressing to consider how little he’d been able to find out even after half a year. After school, Kakashi pulled out the notebook again and tried to write down everything he remembered of his observations, what he’d seen in Obito’s Academy records, and even his and Sakumo’s theories during the summer. The data was sparse, but more importantly, it didn’t link together into any kind of coherent picture. 

If this had been a real intel gathering mission, it would definitely be a failure.

Which was a problem, since Kakashi still hadn’t determined whether Obito was a threat to the village. He had to remember that. 

Their other classmates and the teachers had changed as well. Although many of them had kept a respectful distance from Kakashi in the past, in part in awe, in part due to his unapproachable aura, the gap between them now felt very different. Cold and openly suspicious, full of whispers that were not at all friendly. Even those who didn’t carry any negative feeling were silent in a telling way. The teachers who had fawned over him, the classmates who had admired him, everyone had changed their attitude completely. 

It was good that Kakashi preferred to keep to the most easily forgotten corner with Obito — it made the transition easier. Even so, Kakashi had to admit that it... it didn’t hurt, as such, but it left an uncomfortable taste in his mouth. It made him understand a little why his father never wanted to leave the house anymore. 

But Sakumo wasn’t like Kakashi. He liked other people and being around them. He didn’t like being by himself, and never leaving home couldn’t be good for him. Although something had lightened slightly in his demeanor since their conversation, he was still constantly weighed down and the bags under his eyes never lessened. 

Just like every time he thought about it, Kakashi’s hands clenched and something twisted in his gut. 

He couldn’t help turning toward Obito, a question heavy on the tip of his tongue. 

Obito turned to look back at him, his expression blank as usual but with that particular tension he’d started carrying somewhere beneath it. 

The fact that he was bothered made Kakashi unable to push away his fears. Because that meant it was something real. 

“He...” Kakashi started, his mouth dry. “He really... might die?” 

Obito’s face twitched, and he quickly looked away with a scowl, pretending he hadn’t heard him. 

Unwilling to put up with his usual uncooperativeness, Kakashi kicked at him under the table. Obito avoided it like any other attack Kakashi had ever tried, but he grimaced a little and elbowed Kakashi back to make him stop, unwilling to draw the teacher’s attention. 

“...Because people’s hearts are weak,” he said quietly, looking fixedly ahead to the front of the classroom. “No matter how strong a shinobi’s body or their chakra, they can’t protect their hearts from being hurt, especially by those that are supposed to be their comrades. It’s an unbearable pain that can’t be endured...” 

Comrades... pain that can’t be endured...

It wasn’t like Kakashi didn’t know. Not only was the entire village whispering about his father’s failure, but even the comrades he’d saved denounced him, proclaiming how they, as loyal Konoha nin, would have preferred to die to complete the mission. 

He couldn’t imagine what that felt like, especially to Sakumo, who had always placed his comrades above all else. But Kakashi had already seen how much it burdened his father, leaving him more and more exhausted each day. At this rate, maybe he really would... 

The classroom fell silent as Kakashi abruptly stood up. 

“Kakashi-kun? Is something wrong?” the teacher prompted after a moment of surprise. 

“I’m going home,” Kakashi said flatly. 

Without waiting for response or permission, he strode out of the room as every pair of eyes followed him in mute shock. Only the door slamming shut behind him finally brought them out of their stupor, and the students erupted into a flurry of whispers. 

“Hey! All of you, quiet down!” the teacher tried to yell over the sudden commotion. “He probably didn’t feel well. Someone, take his homework to him after school—!” 

Just as he had said, Kakashi went home. 

He found his father sitting silent and motionless on the engawa outback, looking blankly across the yard. He hadn’t even noticed Kakashi return and jumped in surprise when he dropped down to sit next to him. 

“Kakashi...? Is it already that late?” Sakumo wondered, blinking quickly and running a hand through his disheveled hair. Frowning, he glanced at the angle of the sun, which was still quite far up from where it would be in the afternoon, when Academy classes let out. His worry only deepened, and he looked at Kakashi with obvious confusion and concern. 

“I’m not going back,” Kakashi said, bypassing the obvious questions. 

Sakumo’s hands clenched — just like Kakashi’s always did when he felt a twist of worry. Even though their personalities were very different, they were quite alike in some ways. Of course they were, they were family. 

“Is it that bad?” Sakumo murmured, his voice strained. 

“Yeah,” Kakashi said. “You look really awful. I keep thinking you’ll pass out and hit your head or something. So I’m going to stay home and watch you.” 

That wasn’t what Sakumo had meant, or anything he might have expected. His eyes widened, and he stared at Kakashi with a gobsmacked expression. 

“You don't need to worry. Really, kakashi!” Sakumo tried to assure him. 

“But I  _ am  _ worried,” Kakashi shot back. “Anyway, it’s not like I’m learning anything there. It’s a waste of time going. I’d rather stay home with you.” 

Sakumo smiled awkwardly. “I appreciate it, but—” 

“I’m staying.” 

“Kakashi...” 

“I’m staying.” 

Tired of arguing, Kakashi wrapped his arms around Sakumo’s waist and stubbornly refused to let go. Sighing in defeat, his father let him be, only softly patting his hair as the two of them sat together on the porch. 

~.~

Kakashi didn’t come back to the Academy after that. 

Vaguely, Obito remembered that it had been the same last time as well. One day, their genius classmate had simply stopped coming to class, and when they saw him again, Kakashi had changed. The child Obito had been hadn’t understood why, but he knew now, in retrospect. It was of course because of Sakumo. 

So it had finally happened... 

Their classmates noticed Kakashi’s absence too, but Obito pointedly did not listen in on their gossip. He knew that, even if they were influenced by their parents’ negative views at the moment, in the future they would come to admire Kakashi again for his genius and achievements. All of them had tried so hard to integrate themselves with him, coming up with excuses like celebrating his promotions, when Kakashi had barely given any of them a passing glance. It had been pathetic and ridiculous how they clung to the excuse of having been classmates for less than a year, just because they wanted some connection to the famous genius of their generation. 

It had also been something Obito deeply envied, before he understood the futility of it all. 

“—Stop saying that!” 

Gai’s high voice cut across the classroom, causing Obito to make a face and turn away a little more. The small group near the front murmured among themselves, no one else speaking up loudly enough to make out. 

“I don’t think he was wrong, and neither does my dad!” Gai insisted. “Protecting your comrades is what a Konoha nin should do!” 

...That was unexpected. In the future, Gai and Kakashi became close as rivals, but Obito hadn’t thought it started when they were still that young. He supposed they were a well matched pair — the stuck up genius and beast face... 

“Your dad’s the eternal genin, right? I heard about him from my dad,” another kid responded, his words not nearly as loud but carrying unmistakably. “Makes sense a loser would agree with a failure.” 

There was a moment of stunned silence — that someone would say it so baldly. Then, another round of murmurs, interrupted by Gai’s loud, spluttering protests. He sounded less sure of himself than Obito would have expected, almost on the verge of tears. It seemed his careless indifference to the opinions of others hadn’t been cemented yet. 

“Everyone! Let’s not fight!” 

Obito stiffened as another classmate spoke up, breaking up the brewing squabble. It was a young girl speaking, her voice gentle but unmistakably firm. But more importantly, it was... 

“Kakashi-kun and his father are having a tough time right now. No matter what, he’s our classmate and our future comrade, so we should support him,” she went on. “I took his work to him last week, but it doesn’t seem like he’s ready to come back yet, so we should set up a schedule for who’ll take notes for him. Does anyone want to go first?” 

“Yes! I will do it!” 

“If you do it, eyebrows, isn’t it basically a waste of time? Do you even understand enough to take notes? You’re only barely above that Uchiha weirdo,” someone jeered. 

“Fushito-kun, that’s mean,” the girl scolded. 

“Sorry, Rin.” And more reluctantly, “Sorry, Maito...” 

“I can take notes next.” 

“Then I’ll do it after Asuma...” 

By then, Obito had stopped listening. Hunching in on himself, he refused to look over. 

‘Rin...’ 

He already knew, of course. This was the past, so it was only natural that a past version of Rin was here as well. 

It was just that he had avoided her, and avoided thinking about her. 

There was no point, was there? After all, that little girl wasn’t the real Rin. She wasn’t the Rin he had known, and she couldn’t become her. Obito couldn’t pretend to be a dumb brat promising her he’d become Hokage, so Rin could never promise to watch him in return. The Rin here was a stranger that his one friend might have become if she’d never met him. 

In many ways, she was still the same — kind but brave, both supporting and guiding as necessary. As Obito had sometimes feared as a child, she was just fine without him. Rin had been his world, but he had always been just one of her many friends, and whether he existed in her life or not made no difference at all... 

Just like he’d thought. The Moon’s Eye Plan was the only future for him. 

Shutting away the unnecessary thoughts one by one, Obito focused on training. The sooner he could regain some strength, the sooner he could leave this place behind. 

Fall drew to a close and winter began. It was colder than Obito remembered, training out in the elements. This body was just too weak. 

And on the last day of the second term... 

Kakashi appeared at the Academy again. 

He came early, like always, and when Obito arrived, he only saw a gaggle of tiny bodies all crowding together. Snorting dismissively under his breath, he’d started to trudge toward his usual seat. 

“...happy you’re back, Kakashi-kun!” 

He stopped, listening. 

“I’m only here to take the graduation exam early.” 

That was definitely Kakashi’s voice. 

“Eh? Already? It hasn’t even been a whole year!” 

“As expected of a genius...” 

Right. Kakashi had graduated before the end of the school year. Obito just hadn’t realized it would be after exactly two terms. He thought the timing had been different before, and they had only found out about it after Kakashi already received his headband. 

Maybe it had changed, or maybe he just didn’t remember it right. It hardly mattered. 

Kakashi was one of the shortest in their class, and he had been entirely hidden by the other children surrounding him. But as Obito climbed up to the back of the room, he could finally make out the top of his silver head, and when Kakashi turned, their eyes met for a moment. 

“I have to go,” Kakashi said bluntly to their classmates and quickly began pushing his way free of their circle. 

He was right, it was almost time to the end of term exams to begin, and he would need to head elsewhere to take his own graduation test. What Obito couldn’t understand was why Kakashi instead headed up to where he was sitting. Was he going to start in again about proving that he was a spy or a traitor? Surely he wasn’t still in the mood to waste on that… 

“Come on,” Kakashi demanded, stopping in front of Obito only for a moment — long enough to grab his arm and begin dragging him along. 

He considered breaking loose and refusing to cooperate, but a quick glance at the small faces of their classmates, watching with avid interest, convinced him to keep quiet until they were out in the comparative privacy of the corridor. 

“Why are you dragging me too?” Obito said once they were alone, immediately snatching his hand back. 

“What, you want to stay here? It’s not like you’ll be able to do anything playing around at the Academy,” Kakashi pointed out. “Anyway, I don’t know what your real plan is, but I’m not gonna let you stay here without anyone to watch you. I already told the teachers we’ll both be taking the test.” 

It was deeply unlikely that the instructors believed Obito capable of it, but they had probably also found it easier to play along with him. If Obito refused, it wouldn’t be anything strange — just him knowing his own limits where he supposed friend the genius did not. 

However, Kakashi looked unbearably smug, like he’d outmaneuvered Obito in some way. It was annoying. 

But more importantly, it was strange. Would he really still be making that kind of face after his father’s death? The way he behaved hadn’t changed at all. It wasn’t right.

“I’m not interested,” Obito said, frowning but unwilling to bring it up. It was true — he wasn’t interested in graduating early, especially not this early, when it would draw a great deal of attention. The Uchiha clan in particular would make a fuss, and Obito wasn’t sure he trusted his self-control around them, if they started demanding he act more appropriately or carry out his duty to the clan in some way. 

Although the Academy was mind-numbingly tedious, it was better to endure it for a few more years, then graduate unremarkably and fake his death in some unremarkable way, cutting his ties with Konoha neatly and silently. 

Kakashi had the absolute temerity to roll his eyes. “I’m going to tell your grandmother you graduated,” he said. “And then you’ll have to do it anyway.” 

“What kind of logic is that? I’ll just tell her you lied!” Obito protested. 

“You’re going to disappoint her?” 

What did that even… “Don’t put this on me!” 

“Stop being so stubborn. Dad promised sushi afterwards,” Kakashi outright wheedled. 

...Wait. 

“Your… your dad?” Obito repeated with slowly dawning confusion and something else. 

Kakashi blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift. “Yeah, Dad.” 

He was still alive? But… 

Had Obito completely misremembered the timing? Even if it was too early, it didn’t make sense. Why else would Kakashi have stopped coming to class? Why else did he suddenly decide to graduate out? 

“Oh,” Kakashi made a soft sound, and his eyes narrowed with self-satisfied amusement. “That’s right. My dad. He’s fine.” 

He obviously remembered what Obito had said before, his tone conveyed very clearly, ‘You were wrong, stupid.’

“For now,” Obito muttered, still trying to stabilize his emotions. It shouldn’t have taken him as aback as it had, but to him, it had been a foregone conclusion. 

“No, he’s fine. He’s doing much better,” Kakashi said more forcefully, crossing his arms. “That’s what you get for being the only one in class who didn’t come visit. Everybody else came, you know, and a bunch of them even wished Dad well. Even the Hokage came too.” He slumped slightly, muttering, “Maybe because I skipped class too much…” 

That may have been the pretext, but the actual reason was quite possibly something else. Perhaps the Sandaime had finally decided to take some action regarding the state of one of his top jounin. Or perhaps Asuma had said something to his father, since he had also gone to Kakashi’s house at least once. But the important part was that the Hokage, for all his failings, was able to inspire his shinobi when necessary. If he had spoken to Sakumo and said even a few words to lift his guilt, then the situation could very well have changed from what Obito remembered. 

The rumors would have always quieted down with time. They had even been replaced with propaganda about how Sakumo had died protecting the village. 

As long as he was able to endure through his lowest point, he could indeed start to “do better.” 

But  _ why? _

Why had it changed?

Obito had only spoken to the man once, and nothing in their meeting could have changed his fate. It was hard to imagine that his non-existent presence had somehow influenced the Hokage either, or their class. The only one Obito could claim any impact on was Kakashi, but even then… 

Kakashi wasn’t different. Obito hadn’t changed him, hadn’t even tried to. All they did was run around something barely above a childish game. 

So how could Kakashi have altered his and his father’s fate? 

Who would he even be without the tragedy of his father’s death? 

...No, that wasn’t important. Kakashi didn’t matter, in the grand scheme of things. His role, the child genius who became genin at 5, would be the same. It was the White Fang that could become a stone that sent ripples across everything. 

No single person could make a difference, of course. The hell that was reality couldn’t be changed. But they could unbalance every plan — just like a few words from Uzumaki Naruto had led Nagato astray and disrupted so much of Obito’s scheme. 

If this past could be changed… if it could be set on a different track just by his existence…

…

He couldn’t stay docilely in this place. Or else there was no telling where he’d end up. That was the most important thing — the Moon’s Eye plan. 

Something of his decision must have shown on his face or in his stance, because Kakashi picked up on it. Puffing out his chest, he radiated smugness, before reaching out and beginning to drag Obito along again. 

“Come on, we’re going to be late,” he called back over his shoulder. 

‘Bastard! I’ll show you late!’ Obito thought. He had been entirely on time his entire second life!

He’d show Kakashi. If it was going to be like this anyway, he’d come two, no,  _ three _ hours late to every team meeting!

...They were probably going to be on the same team again, weren’t they? Putting the two brats together would be the obvious choice. 

Rolling his eyes again as Obito stopped in the middle of the corridor, looking annoyed, Kakashi grabbed two fistfuls of his jacket and continued pulling him along. 

He still didn’t know what to make of this weirdo, who said all kind of stupid, gloomy things and always tried to stay hidden. Perhaps he really was a criminal and an enemy. But it was also possible that he was a comrade. And if that was the case, then he was… Kakashi’s friend, just like Sakumo joked so often. 

There was no way Kakashi could leave him alone, as long as that chance existed. 

After all, always protecting his comrades was his nindo. 

It was just that some comrades were more difficult than others, that’s all. 

~.~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a refresher, Japanese school year starts in April, summer vacation runs from mid-July to August, there is a short winter break at New Year, and then the last term goes until end of March. Academy school year seems to be like this too, since we see Obito’s entrance ceremony has the sakura blooming in the background. 
> 
> (Fun detail: Chuunin exams started on July 1, one of the few dates we’re actually given. This means Team 7 was an actual team for three months, April, May and June.)


End file.
